Bless me ain’t it pleasant,
Sparking Sarah Jane?
Gentle words are spoken, kisses sweet we give,
Vows to love each other long as we do live;
Vows to be as happy as the running rill,
Never getting angry: do you think I will?
Dad is getting squeamish, shakes his head in doubt,
Ma looks on and wonders what her gal’s about,
Thinks there’ll be a weddin’—guesses that’s no sin,
But somehow or another hopes I’ve got the tin.