The Humourous Poetry of the English Language

280
Was actually dying with love or--blue devils.
But love, DOLLY, love is the theme _I_ pursue;
With, blue devils, thank heaven, I've nothing to do--
Except, indeed, dear Colonel CALICOT spies
Any imps of that color in CERTAIN blue eyes,
Which he stares at till _I_, DOLL, at HIS do the same;
Then he simpers--I blush--and would often exclaim,
If I knew but the French for it, "Lord, sir, for shame!"
Well, the morning was lovely--the trees in full dress
For the happy occasion--the sunshine EXPRESS--
Had we order'd it dear, of the best poet going,
It scarce could be furnish'd more golden and glowing.
Though late when we started, the scent of the air
Was like GATTIE'S rose-water, and bright here and there
On the grass an odd dew-drop was glittering yet,
Like my aunt's diamond pin on her green tabinet!
And the birds seemed to warble, as blest on the boughs,
As if EACH a plumed CALICOT had for her spouse,
And the grapes were all blushing and kissing in rows,
And--in short, need I tell you, wherever one goes
With the creature one loves, 'tis all couleur de rose;
And ah, I shall ne'er, lived I ever so long, see
A day such as that at divine Montmorency!
There was but ONE drawback---at first when we started,
The Colonel and I were inhumanly parted;
How cruel--young hearts of such moments to rob!
He went in Pa's buggy, and I went with BOB:
And, I own, I felt spitefully happy to know
That Papa and his comrade agreed but so-so,
For the Colonel, it seems, is a stickler of BONEY'S--
Served with him, of course--nay, I'm sure they were cronies;
So martial his features, dear DOLL, you can trace
Ulm, Austerlitz, Lodi, as plain in his face
As you do on that pillar of glory and brass
Which the poor Duc de B**RI must hate so to pass,
It appears, too, he made--as most foreigners do--
About English affairs an odd blunder or two.
For example--misled by the names. I dare say--
He confounded JACK CASTLES with Lord CASTLEREAGH,