Comes to cheer me, very feeble though it be;
There are two who still escape infatuation,
One's my bosom friend McFoozle, t'other's me.
"As I write the words McFoozle enters blushing,
With a brassy and an iron in his hand;
And this blow, so unexpected and so crushing,
Is more than I am able to withstand.
"So now it but remains for me to die, sir.
Stay! There is another course I may pursue.
And perhaps, upon the whole, it would be wiser,