My
gal’s just come frum boardin’ school,
An’ what do yew suppose
She’s
fetched to while away the time,
Besides her style an’ clothes?
It
looks ‘bout like a crookneck squash,
Except the handle’s straight,
An’
it’s got strings an’ all them things,
An’ Mandy thinks it’s great!
I
guess she’s named it for herself,
She calls it “mandylin”;
It’s
somethin’ like a fiddle, tho’
It ain’t so wide an’ thin.
She
don’t saw ‘crost it with no bow,
But picks an’ picks away;
An'
keeps a-pickin’, pickin’ but
She don’t git down to play.
Now
I like music, but I want
Some noise, a hull brass band
Ain’t
none too much for me, but this
Thing I can’t understand.
It’s
“tinkle, tinkle, tweedle-dee”,
Or “pinky, panky, ping”,
With
Mandy’s fingers slidin’ up
An’ down each tiny string.
An’
Mandy she says “paw” an’ “maw”,
An’ picks her mandylin,
An’
gits her skimpy dresses on
An’ asts the neighbors in.
Then
all thet yew kin hear except
When someone’s ast to sing,
Is
“twinkle, twinkle, deedle-dee”,
Or “pinky, panky, ping”.
Maybe
‘ts all right, I hope it is,
But I’ll be called a “jay”
Ef
they hed any sech affairs
Way back in our day.
No
sir; an’ I’ll be called a jay,
Or somethin’ wuss ag’in,
Ef
I’d a-married ma ef she
Hed picked a mandylin.
Dec.
28, ‘05
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