A Party Of Lovers
Pensive
they
sit,
and
roll
their
languid
eyes,
Nibble
their
toast,
and
cool
their
tea
with
sighs,
Or
else
forget
the
purpose
of
the
night,
Forget
their
tea
--
forget
their
appetite.
See
with
cross'd
arms
they
sit
--
ah!
happy
crew,
The
fire
is
going
out
and
no
one
rings
For
coals,
and
therefore
no
coals
Betty
brings.
A
fly
is
in
the
milk-pot
--
must
he
die
By
a
humane
society?
No,
no;
there
Mr.
Werter
takes
his
spoon,
Inserts
it,
dips
the
handle,
and
lo!
soon
The
little
straggler,
sav'd
from
perils
dark,
Across
the
teaboard
draws
a
long
wet
mark.
Arise!
take
snuffers
by
the
handle,
There's
a
large
cauliflower
in
each
candle.
A
winding-sheet,
ah
me!
I
must
away
To
No.
7,
just
beyond
the
circus
gay.
'Alas,
my
friend!
your
coat
sits
very
well;
Where
may
your
tailor
live?'
'I
may
not
tell.
O
pardon
me
--
I'm
absent
now
and
then.
Where
might
my
tailor
live?
I
say
again
I
cannot
tell,
let
me
no
more
be
teaz'd
--
He
lives
in
Wapping,
might
live
where
he
pleas'd.'
