And said Bob, “Be true to me, be true to me;
Kick your slipper, kick your slipper;[2]
Be true to me—old Nick’s the whipper!”
And over the pond, on bending cat-tails,
The red-shouldered Black-birds were piping their gales,
As they swung to and fro with a blithe “Con-quer-ee,”
And their mates made reply—“O’er-the-lea, come-to-me!”
From the Meadow-lark’s throat came a livelier strain,
“All hail to the bridegroom and those in his train;
“And greet the fair bride in her gay-feathered veil,