Bed Sitter

 He stared at me with sad, hurt eyes,
That drab, untidy man;
And though my clients I despise
I do the best I can
To comfort them with cheerful chat;
(Quite comme il faut, of course)
And furnish evidence so that
Their wives may claim divorce.
 

But as this chap sobbed out his woes
I thought: How it's a shame!
His wife's a bitch and so he goes
And takes himself the blame.

And me behaving like a heel
To earn a filthy fee .
 .
 .

Said I: "You've had a dirty deal.
"
"What of yourself? said he.
 

And so I told him how I was
A widow of the war,
And doing what I did because
Two sons I struggled for.

As I sat knitting through the night
He eyed me from the bed,
And in the rosy morning light
Impulsively he said: 

"Through in this sordid game we play,
To cheat the law we plan,
i do believe you when you say
You hold aloof from man;
Unto the dead you have been true,
And on the day I'm free,
To prove how I have faith in you -
Please, will you marry me?" 

That's how it was.
 Now we are wed,
And life's a list of joys.

The old unhappy past is dead;
He's father to my boys.

And I have told him just to-day,
(Though forty, I confess,)
A little sister's on the way
To crown our happiness.

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