In the morning, at ten, St. George's bell
Will toll for me—dreadful for to tell;
For then, alas!—oh, bitter lot—
They ties the horrid fatal knot.
Percival Spooney is my sad name,
I do confess I was much to blame;
I see my folly, now it is too late,
And do deserve my most dreadful fate.
On the first of April, it came to pass,
I well remember,—Alas! alas!—