Think of the plate they have had to borrow,
And the state that the house will be in to-morrow!
Though, after a Polka with somebody nice,
You get sentimental whilst down stairs for ice,
Before you attempt her affections to win,
First try and find out if she's got any tin.
Oh! had we but a little isle,
On which the sun might always smile;
There to reside alone with thee—
How tired out we soon should be!