The Limit

She throws her wages on her back,

     And never saves a red;

She cuts a figure with the lads,

     Where’re she shows her head.

She is a “stunner” they allow

     And wink the other eye;

She seems to be the Limit now,

     But wait till by and by.

She does the dance-halls thrice a week,

     And says the times are “well”;

She won’t desist, altho’ she knows

     It is the road to hell.

She says she’ll be “a long time dead”,

     She’s going to travel high;

She seems to be the limit now

     But wait till by and by.

No care, no thought of morrow’s doom,

     She lives to romp and roam;

She will not wed an honest man

     And grace a happy home.

She wants her freedom, and she’s bound

     To have no tithe nor tie;

She thinks she is the Limit now,

     But wait till by and by.

June 28, 1903