To secure the heart and fortune of the widow Shillibeer!
Stuff and nonsense! let me never fling a single chance away;
Maids ere now, I know, have loved me, and another maiden may.
Morning Post (The Times won't trust me), help me, as I know you can;
I will pen an advertisement,—that's a never-failing plan.
'Wanted—By a bard, in wedlock, some young interesting woman:
Looks are not so much an object, if the shiners be forthcoming!
'Hymen's chains the advertiser vows shall be but silken fetters;
Please address to A. T., Chelsea. N.B.—You must pay the letters.'
That's the sort of thing to do it. Now I'll go and taste the balmy,—