But the last dying spark of existence went out, As the oysters were just coming in! She died, and she left me the saddest of men Oh, I felt all the power of solitude then, But when I beheld Virtue's friends in their cloaks, And with sorrowful crape on their hats, O my grief poured a flood! and the out-of-door folks Were all crying-I think it was sprats! I'M NOT A SINGLE MAN. "Double, single, and the rub." - HOYLE. I. WELL, I confess, I did not guess Such unkind women now! They need not, sure, as distant be As Java or Japan,— Yet every Miss reminds me this I'm not a single man! II. Once they made choice of my bass voice To share in each duet; So well I danced, I somehow chanced To stand in every set: They now declare I cannot sing, And dance on Bruin's plan ; Once I was asked advice, and tasked And "would I read that passage out They then could bear to hear one read; But if I now began, How they would snub, "My pretty page," IV. One used to stitch a collar then, I had more purses netted then I once could get a button on, My buttons then were Bachelor's - To entertain mamma. Mamma, who praises her own self, Instead of Jane or Ann, And lays "her girls " upon the shelf VI. Ah me, how strange it is the change, In parlour and in hall, If they had hair in papers once, VII. Miss Mary Bond was once so fond She daily sought my cabinet, To study my antiques. Well, now she doesn't care a dump For ancient pot or pan, Her taste at once is modernized I'm not a single man! VIII. My spouse is fond of homely life, I go to balls without my wife, And yet each Miss to whom I come, IX. Go where I will, I but intrude, I'm not a single man! X. Miss Towne the toast, though she can boast A nose of Roman line, Will turn up even that in scorn Of compliments of mine: She should have seen that I have been Her sex's partisan, And really married all I could I'm not a single man! XI. 'Tis hard to see how others fare, A trip to Hindostan, With me don't care to mount a stair I'm not a single man! XII. Some change, of course, should be in force, But, surely, not so much There may be hands I may But must I never touch? not squeeze, - Must I forbear to hand a chair And not pick up a fan? XIII. Others may hint a lady's tint Is purest red and white May say her eyes are like the skies, So very blue and bright,— Or if I so began, I have my fears about my ears I'm not a single man! |