Sweeps, lamplighters, and postmen come;
Unasked—too often to remain—
The wife's mammas of most men come.
Unasked, it looms—that ophicleide
From Germany, with melodies
Whereat the cow of story died;
Whereat a modern fellow dies.
Unasked, partakes my Christmas cheer,
(Whom oft, my front-door bell at, I've
Surprised, the better much for beer)—