The Pit with wild excitement will tremble, never fear,
And the merry gods above them will greet me with a cheer!
There will not be a ribald line in all the Laureate's play,
For I'm to be Promise of May, you see, I'm to be Promise of May!
All the Stalls will sit in silence, or with cynicism chill
Will pick the Bard to pieces, and work their own sweet will;
And HAMILTON CLARKE in the orchestra he'll merrily pose and play—
For I'm to be Promise of May, my Lad, I'm to be Promise of May!
So call rehearsals early, call them early, there's a dear!
Bid gipsy-tinted ORMSBY and VEZIN to appear.