Banquets that know no melancholy;
I love a girl whose talk is jolly,
Not silent like a painted dolly.
A rich man of my love is winner,
His foe I feel must be a sinner;
And I adore, or I’d be thinner,
A fine fat salmon-trout for dinner.
I hold among my chief of blisses,
Basking beside a stream with misses;
Love sunshine, flowers; but O than this is