Though you promised to protect her, though you promised to defend her, You are welcome to neglect her: to the devil you may send her: You may strike her, curse, abuse her; so declares our law renowned; And if after this you lose her,--why, you're paid two hundred pound.
There's in the Vest a city pleasant To vich King Bladud gev his name, And in that city there's a Crescent Vere dwelt a noble knight of fame.
Although that galliant knight is oldish, Although Sir John as gray, gray air, Hage has not made his busum coldish, His Art still beats tewodds the Fair!
'Twas two years sins, this knight so splendid, Peraps fateagued with Bath's routines, To Paris towne his phootsteps bended In sutch of gayer folks and seans.
His and was free, his means was easy, A nobler, finer gent than he Ne'er drove about the Shons-Eleesy, Or paced the Roo de Rivolee.
A brougham and pair Sir John prowided, In which abroad he loved to ride; But ar! he most of all enjyed it, When some one helse was sittin' inside!
That "some one helse" a lovely dame was Dear ladies you will heasy tell-- Countess Grabrowski her sweet name was, A noble title, ard to spell.
This faymus Countess ad a daughter Of lovely form and tender art; A nobleman in marridge sought her, By name the Baron of Saint Bart.
Their pashn touched the noble Sir John, It was so pewer and profound; Lady Grabrowski he did urge on With Hyming's wreeth their loves to crownd.
"O, come to Bath, to Lansdowne Crescent," Says kind Sir John, "and live with me; The living there's uncommon pleasant-- I'm sure you'll find the hair agree.
"O, come to Bath, my fair Grabrowski, And bring your charming girl," sezee; "The Barring here shall have the ouse-key, Vith breakfast, dinner, lunch, and tea.
"And when they've passed an appy winter, Their opes and loves no more we'll bar; The marridge-vow they'll enter inter, And I at church will be their Par."
To Bath they went to Lansdowne Crescent, Where good Sir John he did provide No end of teas and balls incessant, And hosses both to drive and ride.
He was so Ospitably busy, When Miss was late, he'd make so bold Upstairs to call out, "Missy, Missy, Come down, the coffy's getting cold!"
But O! 'tis sadd to think such bounties Should meet with such return as this; O Barring of Saint Bart, O Countess Grabrowski, and O cruel Miss!