Each night she'll go—let plays be good or dreary—
And sit them through, still looking bright and cheery!
She can't e'en rest 'twixt Saturday and Monday,
But in a hansom—despite Mrs. Grundy—
She drives down to the Abbey on a Sunday!
She's bright each morn—as fresh as any daisy—
And when with seeing sights I'm nearly crazy,
She says I am "incorrigibly lazy!"
But when one morn from Euston she has started—