Ducks on a pond, when gobblin' up duck-meat,
Ne'er smack'd a music half so sadly sweet!
Miss Biddy Reilly's long-lash'd eyes of jet
Were red (as rivalling her hair) and wet!
Some inward feeling caus'd this outward woe;
But what it was but love for Darby, I don't know!
But now tay-tay and coffee-tay are done,
And of the night begins the raal fun:
The dance is nam'd, and straightway on the floor
Two dozen couple start,—I might say more.