Barbara Cushion
Weeps in the lane,
And vows she will never
Go brambling again.
Down her fat face
Fat teardrops run,
And splash on her bosom,
One by one;
With sobs and cries
She shakes like a shape--
What is the matter,
Is it a rape?
Oh no! It’s her feelings,
Poor girl, that smart;
And Jem’s unkindness
Has broken her heart.
For months she has had
A mind to Jem,
So when she set out
She smiled at him;
Down the green lane
She watched him come--
But all he did
Was to pinch her bum.