To-night and Nancy—rhyme excuses fiction—
Might, if I sang them, fill a ponderous tome:
A perfect night! I breathe a benediction
On Mrs. A.'s At Home!
A DISTINGUISHED AMATEUR.
"Ach! Dat is a putiful Zong, Laty Peacocke, and you bronounce Cherman very vell—pot vy do you blay ze Aggombaniment in B Natural?"
"The Song's written in B Natural, Herr Maestro."