Was thankful that some of the pieces she yet was able to keep,
And sad for the weeping mother of poor naughty, unlucky Jim,
As the booming JULY CELEBRATION blew the whole head off of him.
TO MY VALENTINE
I love you now, and come what may,
I'll always love you night and day.
E'en should you grow both poor and old
And so unhappy that you'd scold;
My love for you would ne'er grow cold,