Let us dry the ready tear;
Though the hours are surely creeping,
Little need for woeful weeping
Till the sad sundown is near.
All must sip the cup of sorrow,
I to-day and thou to-morrow:
This the close of every song—
Ding dong! Ding dong!
What though solemn shadows fall,
Sooner, later, over all?
Sing a merry madrigal—
Fal la!
THE DUKE AND THE DUCHESS
The Duke.
Small titles and orders
For Mayors and Recorders
I get—and they’re highly delighted.
M.P.s baronetted,
Sham Colonels gazetted,
And second-rate Aldermen knighted.
Foundation-stone laying
I find very paying,
It adds a large sum to my makings.
At charity dinners
The best of speech-spinners,
I get ten per cent on the takings!
The Duchess.
I present any lady
Whose conduct is shady
Or smacking of doubtful propriety;
When Virtue would quash her
I take and whitewash her
And launch her in first-rate society.
I recommend acres
Of clumsy dressmakers—
Their fit and their finishing touches;
A sum in addition
They pay for permission
To say that they make for the Duchess!
The Duke.
Those pressing prevailers,
The ready-made tailors,
Quote me as their great double-barrel;
I allow them to do so,
Though Robinson Crusoe
Would jib at their wearing apparel!
I sit, by selection,
Upon the direction
Of several Companies bubble;
As soon as they’re floated
I’m freely bank-noted—
I’m pretty well paid for my trouble!
The Duchess.
At middle-class party
I play at écarté—
And I’m by no means a beginner;
To one of my station
The remuneration—
Five guineas a night and my dinner.
I write letters blatant
On medicines patent—
And use any other you mustn’t;
And vow my complexion
Derives its perfection
From somebody’s soap—which it doesn’t.