From Rude Rural Rhymes by Bob Adams, New York: The Macmillan Company; 1925; pp. 147-148.
ADVICE TO MAIDENS
The punkin is a noble vine
From tropic lands below the line.
Its many fruits are big and bold
And fill the eye with autumn gold,
But though they lie till frost congeal them.
No boy will ever try to steal them.
They have a pretty, yellow hide,
But kids all know they’re punk inside.
The watermelon’s fruit is green
As if not wishful to be seen,
But when some hopeful farmer grows it,
’Most every kid in ten miles knows it,
And as it nears the ripening date
Will strive to swipe it soon or late.
Yea, they will come and take a chance,
Though shotguns salt them in the pants.
O gentle maiden, do not fail
To get the moral of this tale.
We men, of course, pick sweethearts comely —
I’m glad that Hannah is not homely.
But though you use your time and art
To doll up every outward part,
Be like the melon sweet at heart.
[148]
Mere outward beauty like the pumpkin’s
Will win you only fools and bumpkins.
You’ll stay within your own home fence,
No Lochinvar will steal you thence.
But if you cherish from your birth
Some true ideal of modest worth,
Not all your beauty in your skin,
But fresh and pure and sweet within,
Through fence and bolt and bar and latch
Some youth will break into the patch.
He’ll say, “Sweet maiden, come be mine,”
And pluck you from the parent vine.
Yea, though you be true child of Eve’s.
And seek to hide among the leaves,
With love and joy within you risen,
Your heart will answer, “Yes, I’m hisn.”