The Wooer

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The Wooer

In Ballybazoo the young men woo

With the irresistible hob-nail shoe;

But in Ghargharoo lived a maiden who

Was pleased to remark that it wouldn’t do.

From Ghargharoo to Ballybazoo

This sternly dissenting maiden (who,

Etc.) went to reside⁠—a lass

With a cheek of steel and a brow of brass.

Then all the young men of Ballybazoo

Took turns in calling early to woo

(With the irresistible hob-nail shoe)

The beautiful maiden from Ghargharoo.

As each fond lover with ardor threw

His heel in her upturned face there flew

A rain of sparks that consumed his eyes,

Affecting his mind with a great surprise.

When all the young men had renounced their sight,

The metal-faced maiden she sat upright,

Remarking: “There’s nothing here to do⁠—

A dull, dull village is Ballybazoo.”

From Ballybazoo to Ghargharoo

The cheek-whole maiden her armament drew,

And her playmate lovers raised a hurroo

That saddened the sightless in Ballybazoo.

A stranger there was who cherished a heel

Of double-case-hardened, cold-rolled chrome steel!

And taking thought he decided to woo.

As ’twas his undoubted right to do.

To display his charms he removed his shoe,

And boarding her visage, began to woo.

And there in the gloaming, and not in vain,

The old, old story was told again.

It was long ago in the sainted past,

But traits long latent crop out at last;

And I know a live newspaper fellow who

Has ancestors buried in Ghargharoo.