I've just read that shiny black balls (called bulbils) in its leaf axils can be picked and planted, and will germinate the next spring. That's enough of the technical details for this evening. Let's now turn rather to a whimsical love song.
by Ruth McEnery StuartOH my little yaller Lily wid de freckles 'crost 'er nose,
An' 'er purty yaller ruffles roun' de aidges of 'er clo'es.
She's my speckled tiger-lily,
An' I giggles tell I'm silly
When she nods to me a-passin' f'om de winder whar she sews
An' I looks at my bare foots, an' at my dirty gallus strings,
An' I knows de mules is waitin' fur me at de cattle springs.
But wild horses couldn't hinder
Me from buzzin' to her winder,
An' a-sayin' 'bout a million dozen honey-softie things.
You may talk about yo' daisy, you may brag about yo' rose,
But de spotted tiger-lily is de sweetest flower dat grows.
All de yether blooms looks jaded,
An' dey colors seems all faded.
When it curtsies to de gyarden in its yaller furbelows.
Ef you seen my Lily standin' on 'er little yaller toes
Out behind de cedars whar de tiger-lilies grows,
'Cep'n dat de gal is taller,
An' de flowers' bonnets smaller,
You couldn't designate 'er when she's hangin' out 'er clo'es.
Once-t I called her '"Tiger-Lily," des to see de way she'd do,
An' she up an' 'spon', "I ain't a bit mo' yallerer 'n you."
An' wid dat she suds-ed me over,
Den she rolled me in de clover.
Oh, she's a tiger an' a lily, an' a tiger-lily too.
She's my tiger, tiger, tiger,
An' my lily—an' my lily—
She's my tiger,
An' my lily.
An' my tiger-lily too.
Harper's New Monthly Magazine. December 1898 May 1899. New York, London, 1899. Web. Google Book Search. 5 Aug 2009.