Poetry Archives

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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