"WITH MUSICAL SOCIETY."
LOOK'D for lodgings, long ago,
Away from London's fogs and
fusses;
A rustic Paradise, you know,
Within a walk of trains or 'busses.
I made my choice, and settled down
In such a lovely situation!—
About a dozen miles from town,
And very near a railway-station.
Within my pastoral retreat
No creditor, no care intruded;
My happiness was quite complete
(The "comforts of a home" included).
I found the landlord most polite,
His wife, if possible, politer;—
Their two accomplish'd daughters quite
Electrified the present writer.
A nicer girl than Fanny Lisle
To sing a die-away duet with.
(Say something in the Verdi style,)
Upon my life I never met with.
And yet I waver'd in my choice;
For I believe I'm right in saying
That nothing equall'd Fanny's voice,
Unless it was Maria's playing.
If music be the food of Love,
That was the house for Cupid's diet;
Those two melodious girls, by Jove,
Were never for an instant quiet.
I own that Fanny's voice was sweet,
I own Maria's touch was pearly;
But music's not at all a treat
For those who get it late and early.
The charms that soothe a savage breast
Have got a vice versâ fashion
Of putting folks who have the best
Of tempers in an awful passion:
And, when it reach'd a certain stage,
I must confess I couldn't stand it.
I positively swore with rage
And stamp'd and scowl'd like any bandit.
I paid my rent on quarter-day;
Pack'd up my luggage in a hurry,
And, quick as lightning, fled away
To other lodgings down in Surrey.
I'm fairly warn'd—and not in vain;
For one resolve that I have made is—
Not to be domiciled again
With any musical young ladies.