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Sign In Not a Subscriber?Join NowOh, Roger Jones
Oh, Roger Jones
Oh, Roger Jones
NATHALIA CRANE
(Continued from page 35)
OH, Roger Jones! Oh, Roger Jones! Oh, Prince! O, Knight! Ah me! We used to play at keeping house, Beneath an old oak tree.
Your hair was red, your eyes were brown, You had a freckled nose; You were the father of my dolls, My husband—I suppose.
Oh, Roger! You were only nine, And I was half-past eight; It really was romantic, or As good, at any rate.
