And the maid grew long, and lank, and thin.
And she as her charms glimmered away
She ceased for to flirt, and began for to pray.
God pity the maid, and pity the judge,
And these days of twaddle, and bosh, and fudge,
For of all sad words from a heart bereft
The saddest are these, “You bet I’m left.”
Anonymous.
The Modern Maud Müller.