’Twas as a man - I did not sneak away;
An honest life with worthy souls I’ve spent, -
Come, fill my glass;’ he took it and he went.
“Poor Dolly Murray! - I might live to see
My hundredth year, but no such lass as she.
Easy by nature, in her humour gay,
She chose her comforts, ratafia and play:
She loved the social game, the decent glass,
And was a jovial, friendly, laughing lass;
We sat not then at Whist demure and still,