"Poverty Flat" (1870)
(Her Letter)
Words selected and arranged
from a Poem in the
"OVERLAND MONTHLY"
and set to music by
George Frederick Root

1.
Dear Joe, I am here by the fire
Just as I ran up from the dance,
In a robe even you would admire,
It cost a cool thousand in France;
I'm bediamonded out of all reason,
My hair is done up in a cue,
In short sir, "the belle of the season"
Is wasting an hour on you.
Ah! 'twas but this moment while sitting
Beneath the great bronze chandelier
In the bustle and glitter befitting
The finest soiree of the year;
In the mists of a Gauze de Chamberry
And the hum of the smallest of talk,
Somehow Joe, I thought of the "Ferry"
And the dance that we had on the "Fork".

2.
Of the moon that was quietly sleeping
On the hill when the time came to go
Of the few little peaks that were peeping
From under the bedclothes of snow;
Of that ride that to me was the rarest
Of the something you said at the gate;
Ah doe! then I wasn't an heiress
To the "best paying lead in the State."
Well, it's all past, yet it's funny
To think as I stood in the glare
Of the fashion and beauty and money
That I should be thinking right there,
Of someone who breasted high water
And swam the North Fork and all that
Just to dance with old Folinsbee's daughter,
The Lily of Poverty Flat.

3.
But goodness, what nonsense I'm writing,
(Mama says my tastes are still low,)
Instead of my triumphs reciting
I'm spooning on Joseph, Heigh ho!
And I'm to be "finished" by travel ...
What ever's the meaning of that ...
O, why did papa strike gravel ...
In drifting on Poverty Flat.
Good night, here's the end of my paper,
Good night -- if the longitude please
For maybe while wasting my taper
Your sun's climbing over the trees;
But know if you haven't got riches
And are poor, dearest Joe, and all that,
That my heart's somewhere in the ditches,
And you've struck it on Poverty Flat.