Now plain Mrs. Haller, of servants the dread,
With a heart full of grief and a pan full of charcoal,
She lighted the company up to their bed.
Incensed at her flight, her poor hubby in dudgeon
Roam'd after his rib in a gig and a pout,
Till, tired with his journey, the peevish curmudgeon,
Sat down and blubber'd just like a church spout.
One day on a bench as dejected and sad he laid,
Hearing a squash, he cried, "Hullo, what's that?"
'Twas a child of the Count's, in whose service lived Adelaide,