Dukes with the lovely maiden dealt,
Duke Bailey and Duke Humphy,
Who ate her winkles till they felt
Exceedingly uncomfy.
Duke Bailey greatest wealth computes,
And sticks, they say, at no-thing,
He wears a pair of golden boots
And silver underclothing.
Duke Humphy, as I understand,
Though mentally acuter,
His boots are only silver, and
His underclothing pewter.
A third adorer had the girl,
A man of lowly station—
A miserable grov’ling Earl
Besought her approbation.
This humble cad she did refuse
With much contempt and loathing,
He wore a pair of leather shoes
And cambric underclothing!
“Ha! ha!” she cried. “Upon my word!
Well, really—come, I never!
Oh, go along, it’s too absurd!
My goodness! Did you ever?
“Two Dukes would Mary make a bride,
And from her foes defend her”—
“Well, not exactly that,” they cried,
“We offer guilty splendour.
“We do not offer marriage rite,
So please dismiss the notion!”
“Oh dear,” said she, “that alters quite
The state of my emotion.”
The Earl he up and says, says he,
“Dismiss them to their orgies,
For I am game to marry thee
Quite reg’lar at St. George’s.”
(He’d had, it happily befell,
A decent education,
His views would have befitted well
A far superior station.)