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Village Virtue

Jenny was my first sweetheart;

Poor lass! she was none too smart.

Though I swore she'd never rue it,

She would never let me do it.

When I tried she made a fuss,

So damn pure and virtuous.

Girls should cozen all they can,

Use their wiles to get their man.

June, my second, was no prude;

Too good-looking to be good;

Wanton and a giddy-gadder,

Never knew who might have had her;

Kept me mad and jumping jealous,

Tempting all the other

Like a wayside flower to pluck her:

So at last I had to chuck her.

Now I'm settled down with Jill,

And we're safely married still.

She began to wail and worry,

So we wedded in a hurry.

Well, it's quite all right that way -We're all made of common clay,

And the grey-haired folk that bore

Just as wanton were before us.

June,

I hear, now lives in

Where,

I fear, she's sadly undone.

Jenny, still as

Missed the matrimonial bus,

Where our "first" set gossips buzzin'Jill and I now have a dozen,

Ready in their turn to

There's no chastity in love.

June, so fickle and so fair,

Common was as barber's chair;

Jill provides me with good grub,

Lets me go nights to the pub.

Though her silver hairs are many,

One eve I might call on Jenny . . .

She may not need too much urging:

Must be hell to die a virgin.

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Robert W Service

Robert William Service (January 16, 1874 – September 11, 1958) was a British-Canadian poet and writer, often called "the Bard of the Yukon".

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