 | The poetical works of John Godfrey Saxe |  |
49
SONG OF SARATOGA.
“Pray, what do they do at the Springs?”
The question is easy to ask;
But to answer it fully, my dear,
Were rather a serious task.
And yet, in a bantering way,
As the magpie or mocking-bird sings,
I'll venture a bit of a song
To tell what they do at the Springs!
The question is easy to ask;
But to answer it fully, my dear,
Were rather a serious task.
And yet, in a bantering way,
As the magpie or mocking-bird sings,
I'll venture a bit of a song
To tell what they do at the Springs!
Imprimis, my darling, they drink
The waters so sparkling and clear;
Though the flavor is none of the best,
And the odor exceedingly queer;
But the fluid is mingled, you know,
With wholesome medicinal things,
So they drink, and they drink, and they drink,—
And that 's what they do at the Springs!
The waters so sparkling and clear;
Though the flavor is none of the best,
And the odor exceedingly queer;
But the fluid is mingled, you know,
With wholesome medicinal things,
So they drink, and they drink, and they drink,—
And that 's what they do at the Springs!
Then with appetites keen as a knife,
They hasten to breakfast or dine
(The latter precisely at three,
The former from seven till nine).
Ye gods! what a rustle and rush
When the eloquent dinner-bell rings!
Then they eat, and they eat, and they eat,—
And that 's what they do at the Springs!
They hasten to breakfast or dine
(The latter precisely at three,
The former from seven till nine).
Ye gods! what a rustle and rush
When the eloquent dinner-bell rings!
Then they eat, and they eat, and they eat,—
And that 's what they do at the Springs!
Now they stroll in the beautiful walks,
Or loll in the shade of the trees;
Where many a whisper is heard
That never is told by the breeze;
And hands are commingled with hands,
Regardless of conjugal rings;
And they flirt, and they flirt, and they flirt,—
And that 's what they do at the Springs!
Or loll in the shade of the trees;
Where many a whisper is heard
That never is told by the breeze;
And hands are commingled with hands,
Regardless of conjugal rings;
And they flirt, and they flirt, and they flirt,—
And that 's what they do at the Springs!
The drawing-rooms now are ablaze,
And music is shrieking away;
Terpsichore governs the hour,
And Fashion was never so gay!
An arm round a tapering waist,
How closely and fondly it clings!
So they waltz, and they waltz, and they waltz,—
And that 's what they do at the Springs!
And music is shrieking away;
Terpsichore governs the hour,
And Fashion was never so gay!
An arm round a tapering waist,
How closely and fondly it clings!
So they waltz, and they waltz, and they waltz,—
And that 's what they do at the Springs!
In short—as it goes in the world—
They eat, and they drink, and they sleep;
They talk, and they walk, and they woo;
They sigh, and they laugh, and they weep;
They read, and they ride, and they dance
(With other unspeakable things);
They pray, and they play, and they pay,—
And that 's what they do at the Springs!
They eat, and they drink, and they sleep;
They talk, and they walk, and they woo;
They sigh, and they laugh, and they weep;
They read, and they ride, and they dance
(With other unspeakable things);
They pray, and they play, and they pay,—
And that 's what they do at the Springs!
| The poetical works of John Godfrey Saxe | |