Isa Nutter

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Isa Nutter

Doc Meyers said I had satyriasis,

And Doc Hill called it leucaemia⁠—

But I know what brought me here:

I was sixty-four but strong as a man

Of thirty-five or forty.

And it wasn’t writing a letter a day,

And it wasn’t late hours seven nights a week,

And it wasn’t the strain of thinking of Minnie,

And it wasn’t fear or a jealous dread,

Or the endless task of trying to fathom

Her wonderful mind, or sympathy

For the wretched life she led

With her first and second husband⁠—

It was none of these that laid me low⁠—

But the clamor of daughters and threats of sons,

And the sneers and curses of all my kin

Right up to the day I sneaked to Peoria

And married Minnie in spite of them⁠—

And why do you wonder my will was made

For the best and purest of women?