THE SWEATER GIRL.

The sweater girl is featly dressed,

Her curves are full and fair,
The simple hat that suits her best
Is soft about her hair,
The modest roundness of her breast
A queen had loved to wear.

When Mabel, in her cosy pride
And simple ribbon bright,
Sits out beside the rippling tide
And all the stars are white,
I know that she is warm inside
However cold the night.

No sharpest tooth of biting breeze
May pierce her warm heart through,
She shivers not for all that seas
And winter airs can do,
For soft wool holds her by the knees
And wraps her from the dew.

We sit beside a watchful tree,
And none may work us harm;
I know not how she looks on me,
But both her lips are warm,
And I can feel about me free
The roundness of her arm.

The keen airs blowing down the bay
Are very good to taste,
The lighted steamers glide away
With decency and haste
I never knew until to-day
The wonder of her waist.

The sweater girl is featly drest,
Her curves are fair to see,
With winters chilly fingers prest
She goes erect and free,
The modest roundness of her breast
Is melody to me.

Curse o Moses
Pseudonym of David McKee Wright
N.S.W.
The Bulletin, 8
th
May 1913, p. 5.
Loose Cuttings: D.M.W.