Wallawalla

“Come on and sing a sweet romantic song,”
I told her, “Music’s never out of place.”
She glared at me. I’m coming on too strong,
I thought dejectedly, and hid my face.
“We’ll sing together, then, if you prefer”
(My hope, my prayer, my mischievous design).
“You liked my singing once,” I prompted her —
Too piteously, attempting not to whine.
“No, no, I do believe I’ve had my fill
Of singing, never mind your invocation,”
She answered tartly. Nothing worked until
I tried the wallawalla-bing-bang formulation.
When I said “Ting tang,” she at last began to sing,
And now we entertain at every gathering.