When he who adores thee has left but the dregs
Of such famous old stingo behind;
Oh! say, will he bluster or weep,—no—’ifegs!
He’ll seek for some more of the kind.
He’ll laugh, and though doctors perhaps may condemn,
Thy tide shall efface the decree,
For many can witness, though subject to phlegm,
He has always been faithful to thee!
With thee were the dreams of his earliest love,
Every rap in his pocket was thine,