O I was bad I tell you! And it's a funny move That a fellow wild as I was could ever fall in love; And it's a funny notion that an animal like me, Under a girl's weak fingers was as tame as tame could be! But it's so, and sets me thinking of the easy way she had Of cooling down my temper--though I'd be fighting mad. "My Lion Queen" I called her--when a spell of mine occurred She'd come in a den of feelings and quell them with a word. I'll tell you how she loved me--and what her people thought: When I asked to marry Annie they said "they reckoned not-- That I cut too many didoes and monkey-shines to suit Their idea of a son-in-law, and I could go, to boot!" I tell you that thing riled me! Why, I felt my face turn white, And my teeth shut like a steel trap, and the fingers of my right Hand pained me with their pressure--all the rest's a mystery Till I heard my Annie saying--"I'm going, too, you see." We were coming through the gateway, and she wavered for a spell When she heard her mother crying and her raving father yell That she wa'n't no child of his'n--like an actor in a play We saw at Independence, coming through the other day. Well! that's the way we started. And for days and weeks and months And even years we journeyed on, regretting never once Of starting out together upon the path of life-- Akind o' sort o' husband, but a mighty loving wife,-- And the cutest little baby--little Grace--I see her now A-standin' on the pig-pen as her mother milked the cow-- And I can hear her shouting--as I stood unloading straw,-- "I'm ain't as big as papa, but I'm biggerest'n ma." Now folks that never married don't seem to understand That a little baby's language is the sweetest ever planned-- Why, I tell you it's pure music, and I'll just go on to say That I sometimes have a notion that the angels talk that way! There's a chapter in this story I'd be happy to destroy; I could burn it up before you with a mighty sight of joy; But I'll go ahead and give it--not in detail, no, my friend, For it takes five years of reading before you find the end. My Annie's folks relented--at least, in some degree; They sent one time for Annie, but they didn't send for me. The old man wrote the message with a heart as hot and dry As a furnace--"Annie Mullen, come and see your mother die." I saw the slur intended--why I fancied I could see The old man shoot the insult like a poison dart at me; And in that heat of passion I swore an inward oath That if Annie pleased her father she could never please us both. I watched her--dark and sullen--as she hurried on her shawl; I watched her--calm and cruel, though I saw her tear-drops fall; I watched her--cold and heartless, though I heard her moaning, call For mercy from high Heaven--and I smiled throughout it all.