Suspense is hard to bear, just when
A fellow is expecting
A Valentine from Gwendolen,
Ah, here's the postman, messenger
Of Cupidon; I pray
He leaves a letter; it's from her
No small amount I'll lay.
Though somewhat changed in each gay quirl,
I'm sure that I can tell
The dainty pot-hooks of the girl
Who round me casts her spell.
I open it with eager haste,
Oh! Thunder, it's a bill!!
Go Joy, and feel thyself disgraced;
Come, Sorrow, sup thy fill.