LOVE’S PROGRESS OF A TOBACCONIST.
For the Table Book.
1.
When bless’d with Fanny’s rosy smiles,
I thought myself in heaven;
Fanny is blooming twenty-two,
And I am—thirty-seven.
2.
I thought her deck’d with every grace,
Without one vice to jar,
Fresh as new carrot was her face
And sweet as Macabar.
3.
Besides a person fair to view
She had a thousand pounds;
Not to be sneezed at—I had two,
And credit without bounds.
4.