 | London lyrics |  |
114
MRS. SMITH
Heigh-ho! they're wed. The cards are dealt,
Our frolic games are o'er;
I've laugh'd, and fool'd, and loved. I've felt—
As I shall feel no more!
Yon little thatch is where she lives,
Yon spire is where she met me;—
I think that if she quite forgives,
She cannot quite forget me.
Our frolic games are o'er;
I've laugh'd, and fool'd, and loved. I've felt—
As I shall feel no more!
Yon little thatch is where she lives,
Yon spire is where she met me;—
I think that if she quite forgives,
She cannot quite forget me.
Last year I trod these fields with Di,—
Fields fresh with clover and with rye;
They now seem arid:
Then Di was fair and single; how
Unfair it seems on me, for now
Di's fair—and married!
Fields fresh with clover and with rye;
They now seem arid:
Then Di was fair and single; how
Unfair it seems on me, for now
Di's fair—and married!
A blissful swain—I scorn'd the song
Which tells us though young Love is strong,
The Fates are stronger:
Then breezes blew a boon to men,
The buttercups were bright, and then
This grass was longer.
Which tells us though young Love is strong,
The Fates are stronger:
Then breezes blew a boon to men,
The buttercups were bright, and then
This grass was longer.
115
That day I saw and much esteem'd
Di's ankles, that the clover seem'd
Inclined to smother:
It twitch'd, and soon untied (for fun)
The ribbons of her shoes, first one,
And then the other.
Di's ankles, that the clover seem'd
Inclined to smother:
It twitch'd, and soon untied (for fun)
The ribbons of her shoes, first one,
And then the other.
I'm told that virgins augur some
Misfortune if their shoe-strings come
To grief on Friday:
And so did Di,—and then her pride
Decreed that shoe-strings so untied
Are “so untidy!”
Misfortune if their shoe-strings come
To grief on Friday:
And so did Di,—and then her pride
Decreed that shoe-strings so untied
Are “so untidy!”
Of course I knelt; with fingers deft
I tied the right, and tied the left:
Says Di, “This stubble
Is very stupid!—as I live
I'm quite ashamed! . . . I'm shock'd to give
You so much trouble!”
I tied the right, and tied the left:
Says Di, “This stubble
Is very stupid!—as I live
I'm quite ashamed! . . . I'm shock'd to give
You so much trouble!”
For answer I was fain to sink
To what we all would say and think
Were Beauty present:
“Don't mention such a simple act—
A trouble? not the least! In fact
It's rather pleasant!”
To what we all would say and think
Were Beauty present:
116
A trouble? not the least! In fact
It's rather pleasant!”
I trust that Love will never tease
Poor little Di, or prove that he's
A graceless rover.
She's happy now as Mrs. Smith—
And less polite when walking with
Her chosen lover!
Poor little Di, or prove that he's
A graceless rover.
She's happy now as Mrs. Smith—
And less polite when walking with
Her chosen lover!
Heigh-ho! Although no moral clings
To Di's blue eyes, and sandal strings,
We had our quarrels.
I think that Smith is thought an ass,—
I know that when they walk in grass
She wears balmorals.
To Di's blue eyes, and sandal strings,
We had our quarrels.
I think that Smith is thought an ass,—
I know that when they walk in grass
She wears balmorals.
1864.
| London lyrics | |