Who—don’t take it ill—must at four o’clock eat ye.
“My darling! it must be, do make up your mind;
We element brothers, united, and kind,
Have a feast and a wedding, each night of our lives,
So constantly sup on each other’s new wives.”
In vain squalled the cook-maid, and prayed not to wed;
Cinder crunched in her mouth, cinder rained on her head.
She sank in the coffin with cinders strewn o’er,
And coffin nor Betty saw man any more.
Modern, anon.