Explore "The Jilted Lover to His Mother" by Edith Nesbit on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
You needn't pray for me, old lady, I don't want no one's prayer, / I'm fit and jolly as ever I was -- you needn't think I care.
When I go whistling down the road, when the warm night is falling, / She needn't think I'm whistling her, it's another girl I'm calling.