The Humourous Poetry of the English Language

608
I remember how fondly I gazed at my bride,
Sitting down to a plateful of prawns.
O, never may memory lose sight of that year,
But still hallow the time as it ought!
That season the "grass" was remarkably dear,
And the peas at a guinea a quart.
So happy, like hours, all our days seemed to haste,
A fond pair, such as poets have drawn,
So united in heart--so congenial in taste--
We were both of us partial to brawn!
A long life I looked for of bliss with my bride,
But then Death--I ne'er dreamt about that!
O, there's nothing is certain in life, as I cried
When my turbot eloped with the cat!
My dearest took ill at the turn of the year,
But the cause no physician could nab;
But something, it seemed like consumption, I fear--
It was just after supping on crab.
In vain she was doctored, in vain she was dosed,
Still her strength and her appetite pined;
She lost relish for what she had relished the most,
Even salmon she deeply declined!
For months still I lingered in hope and in doubt,
While her form it grew wasted and thin;
But the last dying spark of existence went out.
As the oysters were just coming in!
She died, and she left me the saddest of men,
To indulge in a widower's moan;
Oh! I felt all the power of solitude then,
As I ate my first "natives" alone!
But when I beheld Virtue's friends in their cloaks,
And with sorrowful crape on their hats,
O my grief poured a flood! and the out-of-door folks