To-morrow eve, more stilly laid,
My couch may be my bloody plaid,
My vesper song thy wail, sweet maid!
It will not waken me, Mary!
* * * * *
is thus parodied:—
Song of the Bridegroom.
Don’t, now, be after being coy;
Sit still upon my lap, dear joy!
And let us at our breakfast, toy,