By F. J. E. W.
January 4, 1865. Vol 1. No. 14. Page 1
Oh, married men, I never dared
My love to lady speak.
“But let concealment, like a worm,
Prey on my damask cheek;”
For I confess, I’m sensitive,
My fam’ly all are so,
And I could never bear to hear
From lady’s lips, a—no!
I envy you, you mated men,
For all your wedded bliss,
Your slippers, babies, cradles and
Your wives to love and kiss;
Your shirts, with ev’ry button on,
Clear-starched and white as snow;
Yet these, all these I might have had,
But feared a lady’s –no!
I envy you your Tete-a-Tetes,
Your paper, after tea,
The help to put you off to bed,
When home from some bad spree;
Indeed, I covet all the joys
That marriage doth bestow,
But not the tender-hearted man
Whose plea was met with –no!
I’d welcome all the yards of bills
For millinery stuffs:
Hats, bonnets, ribbons, laces, flowers,
Thread, yarn, pins, ruffs and cuffs.
“McFlimsey’s” dresses, numberless,
Hoop, flounce and furbelow,--
I’d swallow all these trifling bills,
But not the hateful—no!
I have not force of mind enough,
In fact, I am not used
To making love to ladies, for
I dread to be refused!
So to my grave I fear that I
A bachelor must go,
Unless some lady hints that she
Is sure she’d not say—No!