The breezes of morning,
Softly laden with perfumes,
Betoken that breakfast is on the table,
And the Royal family finishing
The Charlotte Russe and lobster
Salad, ’scolloped oysters, lemonade,
And melted ice-cream,—left
From last night’s party.
’Twas there we met her.
Ah! ’twas there we lost our hearts.