We’d build a little bungalow,
   If you and I were one,
And carefully we’d plan it, so
   We’d get the morning sun.
I’d rise each day at rosy dawn
   And bustle gaily down;
In evening’s cool, you’d spray the lawn
   When you came back from town.

A little cook-book I should buy,
   Your dishes I’d prepare;
And though they came out black and dry,
   I know you wouldn’t care.
How valiantly I’d strive to learn,
   Assured you’d not complain!
And if my finger I should burn,
   You’d kiss away the pain.

I’d buy a little scrubbing-brush
   And beautify the floors;
I’d warble gaily as a thrush
   About my little chores.
But though I’d cook and sew and scrub,
   A higher life I’d find;
I’d join a little women’s club
   And cultivate my mind.

If you and I were one, my dear,
   A model life we’d lead.
We’d travel on, from year to year,
   At no increase of speed.
Ah, clear to me the vision of
   The things that we should do!
And so I think it best, my love,
   To string along as two.