Did I a buse her Or show her dis dain?

Why does she run from me?

If I should lose her, How shall I re gain The heart she has won from me?

Ag o ny—!

Be yond pow er of speech,

When the one thing you want

Is the on ly thing out of your reach.

High in her tow er, She sits by the ho ur, Main tain ing her hair.

Blithe and be com ing, And fre quent ly hum ming A light heart ed air: “Ah ah ah ah ah ah ah—” Ag o ny—!

Far more pain ful than yours,

When you know she would go with you,

If there on ly were doors.

Ag o ny!

Oh, the tor ture they teach!

What’s as in tri guing— Or half so fa ti guing— As what’s out of reach?

Am I not sen si tive, clev er, Well man nered, con sid er ate, Pas sion ate, charm ing, As kind as I’m hand some, And heir to a throne?

You are ev ’ry thing maid ens could wish for!

Then why no—?

Do I know?

The girl must be mad!

You know noth ing of mad ness

Till you’re climb ing her hair And you see her up there As you’re near ing her, All the while hear ing her “Ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah—” Ag o ny!

Mis er y!

Woe!

Though it’s dif f’rent for each.

Al ways ten steps be hind Al ways ten feet be low— And she’s just out of reach.

Ag o ny!

That can cut like a knife!

I must have her to wife.