I WILL TELL YOU OF A FELLOW
I will tell you of a fellow, of a fellow I have seen;
He is neither white nor yellow but he’s altogether green.
His name is nothing charming; it is only common “Bill.”
Now he wishes me to wed him but I hardly think I will.
He came last night to see me, and he made so long a stay,
I began to think the blockhead, never meant to go away.
And the tears the creature wasted were enough to turn a mill,
As he begged me to accept him but I do not think I will.
Now I know that I’d not choose him but that I am fairly in it
For he says if I refuse him that he can not live a minute
And you know that the commandments plainly say we must not kill
So I’ve thought the matter over and I rather think I will.
(repeat last line of every verse.)
Written by Vida Rodgers, May 8, 1915)
This is my grandmother (my daddy’s mother). My granddad must have thought she was kinda feisty; he was Jim – not Bill. A copy of her handwritten note was passed on to me and I just discovered it recently. I had a laugh. You know how you think your grandmother was always old. At least that was my thought. I guess she was 20; it was a couple of years after she married Jim. Maybe I got some of my love of rhyme from her. Funny what things slip along in one’s DNA.