Next morn I knew that there were two
Dominoes pink, and one
Had cloaked the spouse of Sir Julian Vouse,
Our big Political gun.
Sir J. was old, and her hair was gold,
And her eyes were a blue cerulean;
And the name she said when she turned her head
Was not in the least like "Julian."
Now wasn't it nice, when want of pice
Forbade us twain to marry,
That old Sir J. in the kindest way,
Made me his Secretarry?