AH Nellie, you were always fair, and you were always good and true,
I’ve sung about your wealth of hair, and praised your eyes, so soft and blue,
Your charms are many I confess, but now my pen in hand I take
To praise in my poor humble way the strawb’ry shortcake that you make.
It may be other maidens play a better bridge whist game than you,
That other wives for suffrage make far better speeches than you do,
And other women, it may be, know more of Browning and of Keats,
But you make shortcake, Nellie dear, that every other woman’s beats.
And were you lacking in those charms that cheer the eye and warm the heart,
Were you not fair to look upon — an angel’s very counterpart —
Were you not gentle, patient, kind, did you not soothe my every ache,
I still should love you, Nellie, for the strawb’ry shortcake that you make.