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SWEETHEARTS AND THE WAR.
Oh, dear ! its shameful, I declare,
To make the men all go And leave so many sweethearts here
Without a single beau. We like to see them brave, 'tis true,
And would not urge them stay; But what are we, poor girls, to do
When they are ail away ?
We told them we could spare them there,
Before they had to go; But, bless their hearts, we were n't aware
That we should miss them so. We miss them all in many ways,
But truth will ever out, The greatest thing we miss them for
Is seeing us about.
On Sundaj'', when we go to church,
We look in vain for some To meet us, smiling, on the porch,
And ask to see us home. And then we can't enjoy a walk
Since all the beaux have gone; For what 's the good (to use plain talk),
If we must trudge alone?