* * * * *
Wants a place as housemaid, or
Companion to a bachelor,
Up in years, and who’d prefer
A person with no character,
A female, who in this respect,
Would leave him nothing to object.
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS
The Lay of the Lover’s Friend.
[Air—“The days we went a-gypsying.”]
I would all womankind were dead,
Or banished o’er the sea;
For they have been a bitter plague
These last six weeks to me:
It is not that I’m touched myself,
For that I do not fear;
No female face has shown me grace
For many a bygone year.
But ’tis the most infernal bore,
Of all the bores I know,
To have a friend who’s lost his heart
A short time ago.
Whene’er we steam it to Blackwall,
Or down to Greenwich run,
To quaff the pleasant cider-cup,
And feed on fish and fun;
Or climb the slopes of Richmond Hill,
To catch a breath of air:
Then, for my sins, he straight begins
To rave about his fair.
Oh, ’tis the most tremendous bore,
Of all the bores I know,
To have a friend who’s lost his heart
A short time ago.