Who was that sweetest of sweet creatures,
Last Sunday, in the Rector's seat?
The finest shape,--the loveliest features,
I never saw such tiny feet.
My brother,--(this is quite between us)
Poor Arthur,--'twas a sad affair!
Love at first sight,--She's quite a Venus,
But then she's poorer far than fair--
And so my father and my mother
Agreed it would not do at all--
And so,--I'm sorry for my brother!
It's settled that we're not to call.
And there's an author, full of knowledge--
And there's a captain on half-pay--
And there's a baronet from college,
Who keeps a boy, and rides a bay--
And sweet Sir Marcus from the Shannon,
Fine specimen of brogue and bone--
And Doctor Calipee, the canon,
Who weighs, I fancy, twenty stone--
A maiden lady is adorning
The faded front of Lily Hall--
Upon my word, the first fine morning,
We'll make around, my dear, and call.
Alas! disturb not, maid and matron,
The swallow in my humble thatch--
Your son may find a better patron,
Your niece may meet a richer match--
I can't afford to give a dinner,
I never was on Almack's list--
And since I seldom rise a winner,
I never like to play at whist--
Unknown to me the stocks are falling--
Unwatch'd by me the glass may fall--
Let all the world pursue its calling,
I'm not at home if people call.
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