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Martin: A Bon Gaultier Ballad
THE LAY OF THE LOVELORN
(In imitation of Tennyson)
Comrades, you may pass the rosy. With permission of
the chair,
I shall leave you for a little, for I'd like to take the,
air.
Whether 'twas the sauce at dinner, or that glass of
ginger-beer,
Or these strong cheroots, I know not, but I feel a little
queer.
Let me go. Nay, Chuckster, blow me, 'pon my soul, this
is too bad!
When you want me, ask the waiter; he knows where I'm
to be had.
Whew! This is a great relief now! Let me but undo my
stock;
Resting here beneath the porch, my nerves will steady
like a rock.
In my ears I hear the singing of a lot of favourite
tunes—
Bless my heart, how very odd! Why, surely there's a
brace of moons!
See! the stars! how bright they twinkle, winking with a
frosty glare,
Like my faithless cousin Amy when she drove me to
despair.
Oh, my cousin, spider-hearted! Oh, my Amy! No, confound
it!
I must wear the mournful willow,—all around my heart
I've bound it.
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