“As we pass the livelong year
“Still as mice in prison drear,
“Let’s to-day be full of cheer!
“First, though, please
“See that no one else is here;
“Fools were we as long as living,
“To love’s maddening passion giving
“All our madden’d energies.
“Let, by way of recreation,
“Each one give a true narration
“Of his former history,—
“How devour’d,
“How o’erpower’d
“In love’s frantic chase was he.”
Then as light as the air from the circle there broke
A wizen’d thin being, who hummingly spoke:
“A tailor was I by profession
“With needle and with shears;
“None made a better impression
“With needle and with shears.
“Then came my master’s daughter
“With needle and with shears,
“And pierced my sorrowing bosom
“With needle and with shears.”
In right merry chorus the spirits then laughed;
In solemn silence a second stepp’d aft:
“Great Rinaldo Rinaldini,
“Schinderhanno, Orlandini,
“And Charles Moor especially,
“Were my patterns made by me.
“Like those mighty heroes, I
“Fell in love, I’ll not deny,
“And the fairest woman most
“Haunted me like any ghost.
“Sighing, cooing like a dove,
“I was driven mad with love,
“And my fingers, by ill-luck,
“In my neighbour’s pocket stuck.
“But the constable abused me,
“And most cruelly ill-used me,
“And I sought to hide my grief
“In my neighbour’s handkerchief.
“Then their arms policemen placed
“Quietly around my waist,
“And the bridewell then and there
“Took me ’neath its tender care.