What has become of the sun, sirs?
Easter our temper exceedingly tries,
When Easter is not a fine one, sirs.
Coughing Chorus—Easter, alas, &c.
Easter is made up of drizzle and snow,
Easter is changeable very,
Easter’s unlike what it was years ago;
But still let us all drink and be merry.
Sneezing Chorus—Easter, alas. &c.