My Mistress's Boots

They nearly strike me dumb,     And I tremble when they come         Pit-a-pat:     This palpitation means     These boots are Geraldine's,         Think of that!     Oh, where did hunter win     So delectable a skin         For her feet?     You lucky little kid,     You perished, so you did,         For my sweet!     The fary stitching gleams     On the sides, and in the seams,         And it shows     The Pixies were the wags     Who tipt those funny tags         And these toes.     What soles to charm an elf!     Had Crusoe, sick of self,         Chanced to view     One printed near the tide,     Oh, how hard he would have tried         For the two!     For Gerry's debonair     And innocent, and fair         As a rose;     She's an angel in a frock,     With a fascinating cock         To her nose.     The simpletons who squeeze     Their extremities to please         Mandarins,     Would positively flinch     From venturing to pinch         Geraldine's.     Cinderella's lefts and rights,     To Geraldine's were frights;         And I trow,     The damsel, deftly shod,     Has dutifully trod         Until now.     Come, Gerry, since it suits     Such a pretty Puss (in Boots)         These to don;     Set this dainty hand awhile     On my shoulder, dear, and I'll         Put them on.