Front:
Lover's Lane, Saint Jo.
SAINT JO, Buchanan County,
Is leagues and leagues away:
And I sit in the gloom of this rented room
And pine to be there today.
Yes, with the London fog around me
And the bustling to and fro,
I am fretting tỏ be across the sea
In Lover's Lane, Saint Jo
Ah! sweet the hours of springtime,
When the heart inclines to woo,
And it's deemed all right for the callow wight
To do what he wants to do;
But cruel the age of winter,
When the way of the world says no
To the hoary men who would woo again
In Lover's Lane, Saint Jo.
I would have a brown-eyed maiden
Go driving once again;
And I'd sing the song, as we snailed along
That I sung to that maiden then.
I purposely say "as we snailed along."
For a proper horse goes slow
In those leafy aisles where Cupid smiles
In Lover's Lane, Saint Jo.
In the Union Bank of London
Are forty pounds or more.
Which l'm like to spend, ere the month shall end
In an antiquarian store;
But I'd give it all and gladly.
If for an hour or so
I could feel the grace of a distant place-
In Lover's Lane, Saint Jo
but the maples they. should shield us
From the gossips of the place;
Nor should the sun, except by pun.
Profane the maiden's face:
And the girl should do the driving,
For a fellow can't you know,
Unless he's neglectful of what's respectful
In Lover's Lane, Saint Jo
Let us sit awhile. beloved.
And dream of the good old days-
Of the kindly shade which the maples made
Round the staunch but squeaky chaise:
With your head upon my shoulder,
And my arm about you so,
Though exiles, we shall seem to be
In Lover's Lane, Saint Jo
- Eugene Freia
29076
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