Which persuade them to think they would not mind it much,
And they yield as a prey to the feminine clutch.
When, lo!—but I'll not track this sad history farther;
Than e'er marry myself I would really die rather."
"Sour grapes! sour grapes!" whispered Jonas, "'tis plain.
But how lucky that single he still can remain!
Sure I married have been thirty years, and ne'er found
The discomforts with which the said state does abound."
"Very likely," was Flanagan's smothered reply;
"But I've found all he said more than true by the bye;