I'm sick, and I'm sorry, and sore;
O'er planks and o'er ladders I'm tumbling,
And get my great-coat painted o'er.
To myself I can scarcely help mumbling—
Spring Cleaning's a terrible bore!
[TAKEN IN TOW.]
How blithely the beauties break into a canter,
And over the sward how their feet pit-a-pat!