Sell Her,— That's Right.

By Thomas Winthrop Hall

Sell her,— that's right! She is young, she is fair;

There's the light of the sun in the coils of her hair.

And her soul is as white as the first flakes of snow

That are falling to-night.‘ T is a bargain, a “go”

Sell her,— that's right!

Sell her,— that's right! For a bag full of gold.

Put her down in your ledger, and label her “Sold”

She's only a beauty with somebody's name,

And the Church for a pittance will wash out the shame.

Sell her,— that's right!