Then, as a damp upon rather a jolly day,
Grief in a diving-bell bore me down deep.
Poverty courted me early—worse luck to her!—
(Wealth would have made me a much better wife;)
Fool that I am, I was faithful and stuck to her;
She 'll cling to me for the rest of my life.
As for our children, we 'd better have drown'd them all;
They, I believe, are the worst of our ills.
Is it a wonder I often confound them all,
Seeing that most of them chance to be Bills?