Ne’er rouse these sleepers from their downy bed.
No chatt’ring females crowd their social fire,
No dread have they of discord and of strife;
Unknown the names of husband and of sire,
Unfelt the plagues of matrimonial life.
Oft have they bask’d along the sunny walls,
Oft have the benches bow’d beneath their weight;
How jocund are their looks when dinner calls!
How smoke the cutlets on their crowded plate!
O, let not Temp’rance too disdainful hear