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Poem	There was a young patrolman who Had large but tender feet; They always hurt him badly when He walked upon his beat. (He always took them with him when He walked upon his beat.) His name was Patrick Casey and A sweetheart fair had he; Her face was full of freckles—but Her name was Kate McGee. (It was in spite of freckles that Her name was Kate McGee.) “Oh, Pat!” she said, “I’ll wed you when Promotion comes to you!” “I’m much-obliged,” he answered, and “I’ll see what I can do.” (I may remark he said it thus— “Oi’ll say phwat Oi kin do.”) So then he bought some new shoes which Allowed his feet more ease— They may have been large twelves. Perhaps Eighteens, or twenty-threes. (That’s rather large for shoes, I think— Eighteens or twenty-threes!) What last they were I don’t know, but Somehow it seems to me I’ve heard somewhere they either were A, B, C, D, or E. (More likely they were five lasts wide— A, B plus C, D, E.) They were the stoutest cowhide that Could be peeled off a cow. But he was not promoted So Kate wed him anyhow. (This world is crowded full of Kates That wed them anyhow.)
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