E’en myself, young ’Tilda Jones.
Oh! Matilda Johnson Jones,
What is all this wayward life?
Tears and laughter, gifts and loans,
Joy and sorrow, peace and strife.
If I could have shared with thee
Either cottages or thrones,
Both had been the same to me;
But ’tis past, light-minded Jones.
Young coquettish Johnson Jones,