And through the city strut in style;
While pensively I muse along,
Listening to some minstrel's song,
With tuneful wife, and children three—
O then, my love! I think on thee.
In Sunday suit, to see my fair
I take a round to Russell Square;
She slyly beckons while I peep.
And whispers, “down the area creep!”
What ecstacies my soul await;