His sterling worth had worked a cure,
She never heard him grumble;
She saw his soul was good and pure,
Although his rank was humble.
Her views of earldoms and their lot,
All underwent expansion—
Come, Virtue in an earldom’s cot!
Go, Vice in ducal mansion!
THOMSON GREEN AND HARRIET HALE
(To be sung to the Air of “An ’Orrible Tale.”)
Oh list to this incredible tale
Of Thomson Green and Harriet Hale;
Its truth in one remark you’ll sum—
“Twaddle twaddle twaddle twaddle twaddle twaddle twum!”
Oh, Thomson Green was an auctioneer,
And made three hundred pounds a year;
And Harriet Hale, most strange to say,
Gave pianoforte lessons at a sovereign a day.
Oh, Thomson Green, I may remark,
Met Harriet Hale in Regent’s Park,
Where he, in a casual kind of way,
Spoke of the extraordinary beauty of the day.
They met again, and strange, though true,
He courted her for a month or two,
Then to her pa he said, says he,
“Old man, I love your daughter and your daughter worships me!”
Their names were regularly banned,
The wedding day was settled, and
I’ve ascertained by dint of search
They were married on the quiet at St. Mary Abbot’s Church.
Oh, list to this incredible tale
Of Thomson Green and Harriet Hale,
Its truth in one remark you’ll sum—
“Twaddle twaddle twaddle twaddle twaddle twaddle twum!”