LOVE, WITH A WITNESS.

E has shav’d off his whiskers and blacken’d his brows, Wears a patch and a wig of false hair,— But it’s him—Oh it’s him!—we exchanged lovers’ vows, When I lived up in Cavendish Square. He had beautiful eyes, and his lips were the same, And his voice was as soft as a flute— Like a Lord or a Marquis he look’d when he came, To make love in his master’s best suit. If I lived for a thousand long years from my birth, I shall never forget what he told; How he lov’d me beyond the rich women of earth, With their jewels and silver and gold? When he kiss’d me and bade me adieu with a sigh, By the light of the sweetest of moons, Oh how little I dreamt I was bidding good-bye To my Missis’s tea-pot and spoons!