THAT BIG BEAVER HAT.
There's a dear friend of mine
Who's rather divine,
His manners and ways are superb,
Though he'd blush like a child,
And nearly go wild,
To speak to a girl but a word.
'Twas a gay Christmas night-
If I remember aright-
As to the rink we wended our way
Among beauty so rare,
It made my poor friend stare,
And surprised me to hear him this say:
The dear little girl in the big beaver hat,
The dear little girl has my poor heart entrapped;
There's none half so fair,
Nor none can compare
With that dear little girl in the big beaver hat.
At the rink we first met
This darling young pet,
In a big beaver hat she looked grand,
With the skaters so gay
She kept whirling away
To the sweet, stirring airs of the band.
My divine friend, he said,
That this dear little maid,
Had stolen his poor heart away,
And every once and awhile,
Between a sob and a smile,
Distinctly I could hear him say:-Chorus.
I tried hard to induce,
But it seemed of no use,
To get my dear friend to go home;
For at that moment there came
This sweet little dame
A-skating around all alone;
He smiled as she passed,
She turned round and asked:
"Is there anything strange, sir, about me?"
Says he: "Oh, dear no,
It's I-I say, Charley, let's go-
If I had the courage I would speak to thee. " -Chorus