Bought me a pair of sandals, high
heel,
Tan suede for my appeal.
Sunday morning we’re dashing,
Girls, myself, all for time slashing.
What! My sandals she’s got?
Ura May was applying make-up from pot,
So unconcerned with my astonishment.
Were those my sandals she wore?
Back to my bedroom through the door,
“Nope!” Here were mine on the shelf.
The tables were turned now, you see,
Instead of her, it was me,
Who was at the other end,
Of covet’s place to bend
Revenge is sweet.
Now on her feet,
Not English riding boot,
But my sandal idea, still moot,
I thought for a minute she was crazy,
Should have known her mind wasn’t lazy.
Let it be a lesson to all men and cattle,
You can’t outwit an Osage in battle
