Sitting at the window
Listening all day to jazz
Sleep has somewhat haunted her
No appetite she has
She sits mindlessly at the window
Listening all day to jazz
Poor Miss Sheryl Linn
To herself she suffered
For the one whom she loved
Not a tender word he muttered
Couldn't tell her folks, poor miss
To herself she suffered.
Sitting by the window
All lost in her dreams
She heard a voice saying "Hey!
Will you be this evening at the Deans'?"
All bloomy she went at his sight
Then a tear at the windowsill beams
For none but this very man
Was the master of her dreams.
Dreaded she to think
That he cared for her not
For the feelings in her heart
For him she kept a lot
Red went her white cheeks at the
"Does he care for me?", thought.
The evening came,
Miss Sheryl Linn dressed
For the grand ball at Deans'
In the whitest gown
And the silkiest gloves
A gold curl over her bosom leans.
With hazel eyes
In the great hall
She searched for her Ned
But at his sight
Her pearly cheeks
Burned and burned till red
For she found him flirting
With another maid instead!
Seeing her dreams tumble
For the first time she felt brave
Then approaching her 'not-any-more-beloved'
A tight slap she gave
Then collecting herself together
Words she spoke utter grave.
"I was sailing on the wildest waves
You brought me to the shore,
I loved you with all my heart and soul
But not any more!"
Saying thus she left the hall
Exiting the utter bore.