The morning call., 1890-10-19
THEY HATE HER.
Young Girls Who Express Their
Disgust of Annie Rooney.

We've sung the covers off the hymn,
books, professor" said the blonde, land the
piono aches with waltZeS and transcriptions,
and we can't 60 fishing because there's
nobody to put the nasty worms on our
hooks, and we can't play lawn tennis be-
cause there isn't level place in Vermont
big enough for court and we've talked to
each other until we're all cross, and-what
can we do, professor?'l
Nobody TO bait your hook" The pro-
lessor was moved to righteous disgust by
this. you haven't any genius for amuse-
ment," Ire continued. "Why don't you
write poetry? Come, there's heaps of fun
in it. Let's try with one sianza each"
So, for lack of anything better, it was
agreed, Accord to the Sun, that each men,
Der of the party, the professor included,
should put into rhyme and four lines his or
her most lively thought. A halt hour was
allowed for the work. and at the end of that
time the professor who had been slyly con-
sulting the back pages of dictionary,
where many rhymes are set forth, gathered
the manuscripts in his hat, shook them up,
and proceeded to read the first that came to
hand. This was the poem:
There are men enough In the mountains,
But woe there are none for me;
They're all a-gone on another girl,
The famous Annie Roonee.
"H'm," unused the professor, "that's a
rather forced rhyme" but his comment was
cut short by chorus of "Why?" " Myw
"WhoW and series of astonished CYCLES
asThe girls looked at each other. They be-
came serious when the professor, after a
puzzled glance at them over his spectacles,
read the next one:
In vain have lured the nice young man
Who comes to the hills to be spooney;
A mean old thing got hold OF bIm first,
And her name Is Annie Rooney.
The girls were as silent as if they were
mournerS at funeral OF their dearest hopes
and the professor peered sharply at one and
another through his glasses.
II hardly expected this display of jeal-
ousy, girls" he said gravely, as he took up
another manuscript and read:
II a nice young man, which I'm glad I'm n t,
ia have girl TO myself, or go without:
And I'm sure | wouldn't sing of the same old girl
That every other Eel ow is singing about
"This," cried the professor. Undoubtedly
refers TO the same young lady. and | am sur
priSed and mortified that sensible people
like you sh0nld be so silly. l say nothing
of the wretched meter or the defiance Of
all laws OF prosody. It's tile sentiment,
heart. | wont have anything more to do
with it," and he laid down the poems with a
siam.
"You began it, professor" said the girls,
'and you must see it through" and so BY
dint of hard persuasion he was led 10 read
another poem.
Blow high, blow low. We mountain winds
Now, that's like poetry" he interrupted
himself to say. and he began again with
marked satisfaction.
Blow high, blow low, we mountain winds,
Blow we from or far,
But blow me the sound of sons other tune
Than the young mans Annie r.
81 fear" said the professor, that this SIM
ply masks the same evil spirit more plainly
exposed in the others. But maybe not
maybe not. Well try another" And be
read:
She's on his lips the whole day long,
OF her he sings and signs;
If ever meet Miss Rooney
III scratch out both her eyes.
Disguised, the professor left the room,
having first denounced the girls as heathens.