Full as an egg was I with glee,
And happy as a king:
Good Lord! how all men envied me!
She loved like any thing.
But false as hell, she, like the wind,
Chang'd, as her sex must do;
Though seeming as the turtle kind,
And like the gospel true.
If I and Molly could agree,
Let who would take Peru!
Great as an Emperor should I be,
And richer than a Jew.
Till you grow tender as a chick,
I'm dull as any post;
Let us like burs together stick,
And warm as any toast.
You'll know me truer than a die,
And wish me better sped;
Flat as a flounder when I lie,
And as a herring dead.
Sure as a gun she'll drop a tear
And sigh, perhaps, and wish,
When I am rotten as a pear,
And mute as any fish.
REMINISCENCES OP A SENTIMENTALIST. THOMAS HOOD.
"My TABLES! MEAT it is, I SET IT down!"—Hamlet
I think it was Spring—but not certain I am—
When my passion began first to work;
But I know we were certainly looking for lamb,
And the season was over for pork.
'T was at Christmas, I think, when I met with Miss Chase,
Yes—for Morris had asked me to dine—
And I thought I had never beheld such a face,
Or so noble a turkey and chine.