She saw him sink in a fiery hole,
She heard him scream, "My soul! my soul!"
While roars of fiendish laughter roll,
And drown the yells of mercy!
"Blood to drink," etc., etc.
The ridiculous woman could stand no more—
She fainted and fell on the checkered floor,
'Midst all the diabolical roar.
What then, you ask me, did befall
Mehitable Byrde? Why, nothing at all—