With a rising blockade in the thorax as well.
While her forehead of snow into pieces seems splitting,
As the pain ev'ry moment is worse and worse getting.
And her bright eyes are streaming regret for the folly
Which has garnished her lungs with a feeling like holly;
And has changed her sweet voice, as a matter of course,
From the nightingale's tone to sound dreadfully hoarse.
"Oh, how funny it seems to one not fond of dancing,
To see women and men just like animals prancing!
Roaming forwards and back like two bears in a cage,