(when the girls are thinking about
what the boys were, all summer )

Long silent, they speculate:
He, on how to meet;
She, about his meat.
Formulating speech,
     He:   Is thee a quaker?
     She:  Not really, but I tell him
                     what I like.
He begins to sing.
     He:  O, the sun shines bright
             on my old Kentucky home. . .
     She:  I’m at the track.       
     He:   I’m guessing bare back.
     She:  Only when I’m ridden—
                      and at the quarry.
She begins to sing in corrupted verse.
        She:  Though my figure’s less than Greek,
           I wanta be your Funny Valentine, today.
         He: (reprising) Weep no more, my lady,
                     Weep no more today.
               By the way, at the quarry
               do you dally?
         She:   Certainly not, I am the quarry.
          He:   By Christ,  I’m in the hunt!
         She:   Would you like to see my cunt?
          He:   I thought you’d never ask.
                Shall we dance ?

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