Miserly Maiden

You’ve come to steal my heart?
An ironmonger’s wife
Would ne’er agree to part
With hardened ore and strife.
Am I a single lass?
It must have slipped my mind.
I’m married to this mass
Of molten copper and brass.

It’s fun to polish my rings
(these stones are getting old);
My parrot never sings
(he’s only made of gold).

You’re such a humble man;
You’ll never find a bride.
Had you a dark sedan,
You’d be afraid to ride.
28
A ragged wretch you are;
You’re nothing but a fool.
My reputation I’d mar,
My friends would think me cruel
If I were caught with you.
You say that you’re a thief?
You haven’t come to woo,
Or to bring this lady grief?

Please take this golden chain;
Remove this silver band!
I thought you’d bring me pain;
Instead you take my sand.

I’m glad you’re not a beau;
I hate their lustful smiles.
You’re such an honest crow;
You told me of your wiles.

Most men would steal my heart;
My riches they’d ignore,
But you are much too smart
To take the pyrite ore.

Copyright ©1985 Joseph G. Merrell III

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