T. 99 would gladly hear
From one whose years are few,
A maid whose doctrines are severe,
Of Presbyterian blue,
Also—with view to the above—
Her photo he would see,
And trusts that she may live and love
His Protestant to be!
But ere the sacred rites are done
(And by no Priest of Rome)
He’d ask, if she a Remington
Type-writer works—at home?
If she have no objections to
This task, and if her hair—
In keeping with her eyes of blue—
Be delicately fair,
Ah, then, let her a photo send
Of all her charms divine,
To him who rests her faithful friend,
Her own T. 99.