“But I’ll leave my friends to stew in their juice;
I’ll let the colonies go to the deuce;
I’ll truckle to Russia and worry the Porte
(Pray look upon that as my special forte);
I’ll shut my ears when a hero calls,
And I’ll go, when he dies, to the music-halls.
“How will that suit you, my pretty maid?”
“I could not consent to it, Sir,” she said.
“Never mind foreign affairs, my lass;
I’ll give you a cow and three acres in grass: