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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
To indulge in a widower's moan,

Oh, I felt all the power of solitude then,
As I ate my first natives alone!

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.
"This, this is Solitude."-BYRON.

I.

WELL, I confess, I did not guess
A simple marriage vow
Would make me find all women-kind

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 ;

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Once I was asked advice, and tasked
What works to buy or not,

And "would I read that passage out
I so admired in Scott?"

They then could bear to hear one read;

But if I now began,

How they would snub, "My pretty page,"
I'm not a single man !

IV.

One used to stitch a collar then,
Another hemmed a frill;

I had more purses netted then
Than I could hope to fill.

I once could get a button on,
But now I never can

My buttons then were Bachelor's -
I'm not a single man!

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To entertain mamma.

Mamma, who praises her own self,

Instead of Jane or Ann,

And lays "her girls " upon the shelf
I'm not a single man!

VI.

Ah me, how strange it is the change,

In parlour and in hall,
They treat me so, if I but go
To make a morning call.

If they had hair in papers once,
Bolt up the stairs they ran;
They now sit still in dishabille
I'm not a single man!

VII.

Miss Mary Bond was once so fond
Of Romans and of Greeks;

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

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I'm not a single man!

VIII.

My spouse is fond of homely life,
And all that sort of thing;

I go to balls without my wife,
And never wear a ring:

And yet each Miss to whom I come,
As strange as Genghis Khan,
Knows by some sign, I can't divine -
I'm not a single man!

IX.

Go where I will, I but intrude,
I'm left in crowded rooms,
Like Zimmerman on Solitude,
Or Hervey at his Tombs.
From head to heel, they make me feel,
Of quite another clan;
Compelled to own, though left alone -

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,
Whilst I rejected stand,-
Will no one take my arm because
They cannot have my hand?
Miss Parry, that for some would go

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?
But I have been myself picked up -
I'm not a single man!

XIII.

Others may hint a lady's tint

Is purest red and white

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May say her eyes are like the skies,

So very blue and bright,—
I must not say that she has eyes,

Or if I so began,

I have my fears about my ears

I'm not a single man!

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