And Mendicants will sup like Kings,
And Lords will swear like Lacqueys—
And black eyes oft will lead to rings,
And rings will lead to black eyes;
And pretty Kate will scold her mate.
In a dialect all divine—
Alas! they married in Twenty-eight,—
They will part in Twenty-nine!
John Thomas Mugg, on a lonely hill,
Will do a deed of mystery—