Her papa came up to her,
And thus he did say,
Go, dress yourself, Dinah,
In gor-ge-ous array
And I’ll get you a husband,
Both val-ly-ant and gay.
Singing Too-ral-loo, etc.
Spoken—This is what the infant progeny said to the author of her being.
Oh, papa! oh, papa!
I’ve not made up my mind,
To marry just yet
I do not feel inclined,
And all my large fortune,
I’ll freely give o’er,
If you’ll let me stay single
A year or two more.
Singing Too-ral-loo, etc.
This is what the indignant parient replied—I represent the father.
Then go, boldest daughter,
The parient replied,
If you don’t consent to be
This here young man’s bride,
I’ll leave your large fortune
To the nearest of kin,
And you shan’t have the benefit
Of one single pin.
Singing Too-ral-loo, etc.
Now comes the epiflabbergastrinum of the lovier.
As Vilikins vas valking
The garden around—
(The aforesaid front garden,)
He spied his dear Dinah
Lying dead on the ground,
A cup of cold pison
It laid by her side,
And a billy dux stating
By pison she died.
Taken inwardly, Singing Too-ral-loo, etc.
This is what the lovier did.