When through the streets I walk about,
My subjects stand and kiss their hands,
Raise a refined metallic shout,
Wave flags and warble tunes on bands;
While bunting hangs on ev'ry front,—
With my commands to let it bunt!
When I come home again, of course,
Retainers are employed to cheer,
My paid domestics get quite hoarse
Acclaiming me, and you can hear
The welkin ringing to the sky,—
Ay, ay, and let it welk, say I!
And yet, in spite of this, there are
Some persons who, at diff'rent times,
—(Because I am so popular)—
Accuse me of most awful crimes;
A girl once said I was a flirt!
Oh my! how the expression hurt!
I never flirted in the least,
Never for very long, I mean,—
Ask any lady (now deceased)
Who partner of my life has been;—
Oh well, of course, sometimes, perhaps,
I meet a girl, like other chaps,—
And, if I like her very much,
And if she cares for me a bit,
Where is the harm of look or touch,
If neither of us mentions it?
It isn't right, I don't suppose,
But no one's hurt if no one knows!
One should not break oneself too fast
Of little habits of this sort,
Which may be definitely classed
With gambling, or a taste for port;
They should be slowly dropped, until
The Heart is subject to the Will.
I knew a man (in Regent Street)
Who, at a very slight expense,
By persevering, was complete-
Ly cured of Total Abstinence
An altered life he has begun
And takes a glass with any one.
I knew another man, whose wife
Was an invet'rate suicide;
She daily strove to take her life,
And (naturally) nearly died;
But some such system she essayed,
And now—she's eighty in the shade.
Ah, the new leaves I try to turn!
But, like so many men in town,
I seem (as with regret I learn)
Merely to turn the corner down;
A habit which, I fear, alack!
Makes it more easy to turn back.
I have been criticised a lot;
I venture to inquire what for?
Because, forsooth, I have not got
The instincts of a bachelor!
Just hear my story, you will find
How grossly I have been maligned.