A rich tobacconist comes and sues, And, thinking the lady would scarce refuse A man of his wealth, and liberal views, Began, at once, with "If you choose— And could you really love him—" But the lady spoiled his speech in a huff, With an answer rough and ready enough, To let him know she was up to snuff, And altogether above him!
A young attorney, of winning grace, Was scarce allowed to "open his face," Ere Miss MacBride had closed his case With true judicial celerity; For the lawyer was poor, and "seedy" to boot, And to say the lady discarded his suit, Is merely a double verity!
The last of those who came to court, Was a lively beau, of the dapper sort, "Without any visible means of support," A crime by no means flagrant In one who wears an elegant coat, But the very point on which they vote A ragged fellow "a vagrant!"
Now dapper Jim his courtship plied (I wish the fact could be denied) With an eye to the purse of the old MacBride, And really "nothing shorter!" For he said to himself, in his greedy lust, "Whenever he dies—as die he must— And yields to Heaven his vital trust, He's very sure to 'come down with his dust,' In behalf of his only daughter."
And the very magnificent Miss MacBride, Half in love, and half in pride, Quite graciously relented; And, tossing her head, and turning her back, No token of proper pride to lack— To be a bride, without the "Mac," With much disdain, consented!
Old John MacBride, one fatal day, Became the unresisting prey Of fortune's undertakers; And staking all on a single die, His foundered bark went high and dry Among the brokers and breakers!
But, alas, for the haughty Miss MacBride, 'T was such a shock to her precious pride! She couldn't recover, although she tried Her jaded spirits to rally; 'T was a dreadful change in human affairs, From a place "up town" to a nook "up stairs," From an avenue down to an alley!
'T was little condolence she had, God wot, From her "troops of friends," who hadn't forgot The airs she used to borrow! They had civil phrases enough, but yet 'T was plain to see that their "deepest regret" Was a different thing from sorrow!
And one of those chaps who make a pun, As if it were quite legitimate fun To be blazing away at every one With a regular, double-loaded gun— Remarked that moral transgression Always brings retributive stings To candle-makers as well as kings; For "making light of cereous things" Was a very wick-ed profession!
And vulgar people—the saucy churls— Inquired about "the price of pearls," And mocked at her situation: "She wasn't ruined—they ventured to hope— Because she was poor, she needn't mope; Few people were better off for soap, And that was a consolation!"