You know what she said to Lovell, the young feller she wuz married to (he worshipped the very ground she walked on).
“I am weary of dancing now, she cried;
Here tarry a moment, I’ll hide, I’ll hide;
And, Lovell, be sure thou’rt the first to trace
The clue to my secret hiding-place.”
And you probble remember how the crazed young bridegroom, and the old Baron, and all the rest of the weddin’ guests hunted for the pretty, young creeter all night and all day, and for weeks and months and years—all in vain, in vain.
Till at last, when Lovell (poor, broken-hearted creeter!) wuz a old white-headed man, a old chest wuz found in the castle, and they see, on liftin’ up the led—
“A skeleton form lay mouldering there
In the bridal robes of the lady fair.
Oh, sad was her fate! In sportive jest