Some day he'll stoop to raise her to his throne,
Look tame and tired of wild oats—for a time;
And, when They reap the whirlwind he has sown,
We'll talk of his misfortune and her crime.
THOSE SILENT BOOTS.
Burglar's Ballad. Air—"Those Evening Bells."
Those Silent Boots! Those Silent Boots!
When out upon our gay galoots,
'Twill give us coves the bloomin' jumps,