You mourn Maria in your handkerchief,
Rush, rush to Aunty, and obtain relief.
AN F.S.A. OF OVER 100 YEARS.
Beneath the spreading chestnut tree
The village smithy stands—
With Mrs. Smith it's all U P,
She's gone to other lands.
But he goes on Sunday to the church,
And hears her sister's voice;
He leaves his scruples in the lurch,