We wandered out. It was a perfect day. I asked if I might teach you. You were kind Enough to answer, "Why, _of course_, you may." I kissed your pretty face with hay entwined, We made sweet hay. But what will Mother say If in a dozen years we're still inclined To make sweet hay? * * * * * [Transcriber's Note: Alternative spellings retained. Punctuation normalised without comment. Spelling regularised without comment.] End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch or the London Charivari, Vol.107, September 1, 1894, by Various