Without a moment to consider,
You've luck to marry a rich 'widder.'
At noon your Lady calls the carriage,
When least you dream of aught like marriage,
Calls at a Chapel by the way,—
You're up to what's the time of day!
Bring home, inside, your lady wife,
Thenceforth to have and hold—for life!
Without such luck, or some preferment,
To make an end, I make averment,