Nancy Macintyre

Whilst the greatest effort has been made to ensure the quality of this text, due to the historical nature of this content, in some rare cases there may be minor issues with legibility. Never really liked that Johnson; Now, each time I hear his name, Feel this state's too thickly settled, That is, since that new girl came. If this making love to women Went like breaking in a horse, I might stand some show of winning, 'cause I've learned that game, of course; But this moonshine folks call 'courting,' I ain't never played that part; I can't keep from talking foolish When I'm thinking with my heart. Now, those women that you read of In these story picture books, They can't ride in roping distance Of that girl in style and looks. They have waists more like an insect, Corset shaped and double cinched; Feet just right to make a watch charm, Small, of course, because they're pinched. This here Nancy's like God made her. She don't wear no saddle girth, But she's supple as a willow, And the purtiest thing on earth. I'm in earnest; let me ask you 'cause I want to reason fair What durn business has that rope-necked Johnson sneaking over there? Hands so soft and strong and tender, When I shook a how de do, They was loaded sure with something Seemed to thrill me through and through; Hair as black as fire-burnt prairie, Eyes that dance and flash and flirt; Every time she smiled she showed you Teeth as White's my Sunday shirt. Baked us biscuits light as cotton; I can't eat mine any more. I must get some better breeches; Kind o' 'shamed of those I wore, But I'm goin' there to-morrow, Like enough I'll stay all day. Seems to me too dry for plowing. Durn that Johnson, anyway!

Whilst the greatest effort has been made to ensure the quality of this text, due to the historical nature of this content, in some rare cases there may be minor issues with legibility. Never really liked that Johnson; Now, each time I hear his name, Feel this state's too thickly settled, That is, since that new girl came. If this making love to women Went like breaking in a horse, I might stand some show of winning, 'cause I've learned that game, of course; But this moonshine folks call 'courting,' I ain't never played that part; I can't keep from talking foolish When I'm thinking with my heart. Now, those women that you read of In these story picture books, They can't ride in roping distance Of that girl in style and looks. They have waists more like an insect, Corset shaped and double cinched; Feet just right to make a watch charm, Small, of course, because they're pinched. This here Nancy's like God made her. She don't wear no saddle girth, But she's supple as a willow, And the purtiest thing on earth. I'm in earnest; let me ask you 'cause I want to reason fair What durn business has that rope-necked Johnson sneaking over there? Hands so soft and strong and tender, When I shook a how de do, They was loaded sure with something Seemed to thrill me through and through; Hair as black as fire-burnt prairie, Eyes that dance and flash and flirt; Every time she smiled she showed you Teeth as White's my Sunday shirt. Baked us biscuits light as cotton; I can't eat mine any more. I must get some better breeches; Kind o' 'shamed of those I wore, But I'm goin' there to-morrow, Like enough I'll stay all day. Seems to me too dry for plowing. Durn that Johnson, anyway!