| |
| FAIR lady with the bandaged eye! | |
| I’ll pardon all thy scurvy tricks, | |
| So thou wilt cut me and deny | |
| Alike thy kisses and thy kicks: | |
| I’m quite contented as I am, | 5 |
| Have cash to keep my duns at bay, | |
| Can choose between beefsteaks and ham, | |
| And drink Madeira every day. | |
| |
| My station is the middle rank, | |
| My fortune—just a competence— | 10 |
| Ten thousand in the Franklin Bank, | |
| And twenty in the six per cents.; | |
| No amorous chains my heart enthrall, | |
| I neither borrow, lend, nor sell; | |
| Fearless I roam the City Hall, | 15 |
| And “bite my thumb” at Sheriff Bell. | |
| |
| The horse that twice a week I ride, | |
| At Mother Dawson’s eats his fill; | |
| My books at Goodrich’s abide, | |
| My country-seat is Weehawk hill; | 20 |
| My morning lounge is Eastburn’s shop, | |
| At Poppleton’s I take my lunch, | |
| Niblo prepares my mutton-chop, | |
| And Jennings makes my whiskey-punch. | |
| |
| When merry, I the hours amuse | 25 |
| By squibbing Bucktails, Guards, and Balls, | |
| And when I’m troubled with the blues, | |
| Damn Clinton and abuse canals: | |
| Then, Fortune! since I ask no prize, | |
| At least preserve me from thy frown! | 30 |
| The man who don’t attempt to rise, | |
| ’Twere cruelty to tumble down. | |
| |
