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wanted.—a theme.
The fooleries of the beau-monde, mother, should I write on as I feel,
The ladies fair would vote me odd, and not at all genteel;
And ah, the lordly sex, mother, their ire would heaviest fall,—
They 'd vow I was a sour old maid,—and that were worse than all!
The ladies fair would vote me odd, and not at all genteel;
And ah, the lordly sex, mother, their ire would heaviest fall,—
They 'd vow I was a sour old maid,—and that were worse than all!
I think I 'll off to bed, mother,—I'm tired, and then it's late;
The horse I rode this afternoon had such a shocking gait!
So do not early break, mother, my deep and soft repose,
For I love a morning doze, mother,—I love a morning doze.
The horse I rode this afternoon had such a shocking gait!
So do not early break, mother, my deep and soft repose,
For I love a morning doze, mother,—I love a morning doze.
