Ben Unger’s wife was dark and small, With little, round, black eyes;
Ben Unger started at her call, For Ben had been made wise.
No dirge could crush his spirit but The one by Annie sung;
No whip-lash ever made could cut Like Annie Unger’s tongue.
But Annie had a round, red cheek, A figure like a plum,
And Henderson from up the creek In courtship sly would come.
Then Annie voiced no angry call, Here dirge remained unsung,
And very gentle was the fall Of Annie Unger’s tongue.
Ned Holman went to Ben upon The hill in Colter’s hay.
He said: “your wife with Henderson Ran off at ten to-day!”Ben stood stock still. “All right!” said he; Then with a little laugh:“That makes us quits at last. ‘Twas me That stole his brindle calf!”
