Shapes of Clay

What, madam, run for School Director? You?

And want my vote and influence? Well, well,

That beats me! Gad! where are we drifting to?

In all my life I never have heard tell

Of such sublime presumption, and I smell

A nigger in the fence! Excuse me, madam;

We statesmen sometimes speak like the old Adam.

But now you mention it—well, well, who knows?

We might, that's certain, give the sex a show.

I have a cousin—teacher. I suppose

If I stand in and you 're elected—no?

You'll make no bargains? That's a pretty go!

But understand that school administration

Belongs to Politics, not Education.

We'll pass the teacher deal; but it were wise

To understand each other at the start.

You know my business—books and school supplies;

You'd hardly, if elected, have the heart

Some small advantage to deny me—part

Of all my profits to be yours. What? Stealing?

Please don't express yourself with so much feeling.

You pain me, truly. Now one question more.

Suppose a fair young man should ask a place

As teacher—would you (pardon) shut the door

Of the Department in his handsome face

Until—I know not how to put the case—

Would you extort a kiss to pay your favor?

Good Lord! you laugh? I thought the matter graver.

Well, well, we can't do business, I suspect:

A woman has no head for useful tricks.

My profitable offers you reject

And will not promise anything to fix

The opposition. That's not politics.

Good morning. Stay—I'm chaffing you, conceitedly.

Madam, I mean to vote for you—repeatedly.