190 THE FOGY DAYS AND NOW; 



Like her namesake, swift Atalanta, 

 She's the champion in every race. 



Who'd have guessed this cracker girl, 

 The same that wore the shabby dress ; 



But though she was a cracker girl, 

 She had a wink to business. 



Now her suitors count by thousands, 

 Under each one's arm they say is worn ; 



Ever alert to start to tooting, 

 For 'tis said, each one toots a horn. 



And she dances to the music, 



She cuts a caper for every blast ; 



Can't count the twinkles of her feet, 

 Kase she flings em out so fast. 



Lightly trips our Lady Atlanta, 

 So lightly trips to the mazy dance ; 



She's the belle of all the townies. 

 And she's passed the line of chance. 



See her church spires point to heaven, 

 She's kind and helpful to the poor ; 



She has a welcome for the stranger. 

 Her latch string's outside the door. 



Her breezes are soft and balmy, 

 And her heart is ever warm and true ; 



You bet her dirt is good investment. 

 And will bring in the revenue. 



Toot your horns for the cracker girl, 

 The girl who wore the shabby dress. 



For now she's a Dolly Varden, 

 She's a hummer, and nothing less. 



