And he chirped and sang, and skipped about, and laughed with laughter hearty— He was wonderfully active for so very stout a party. And I said, “O gentle pieman, why so very, very merry? Is it purity of conscience, or your one-and-seven sherry?” But he answered, “I’m so happy—no profession could be dearer— If I am not humming ‘Tra! la! la!’ I’m singing ‘Tirer, lirer!’ “First I go and make the patties, and the puddings, and the jellies, Then I make a sugar bird-cage, which upon a table swell is; “Then I polish all the silver, which a supper-table lacquers; Then I write the pretty mottoes which you find inside the crackers.”— “Found at last!” I madly shouted. “Gentle pieman, you astound me!” Then I waved the turtle soup enthusiastically round me. And I shouted and I danced until he’d quite a crowd around him— And I rushed away exclaiming, “I have found him! I have found him!” And I heard the gentle pieman in the road behind me trilling, “‘Tira, lira!’ stop him, stop him! ‘Tra! la! la!’ the soup’s a shilling!” But until I reached ELVIRA’S home, I never, never waited, And ELVIRA to her FERDINAND’S irrevocably mated! TO MY BRIDE (WHOEVER SHE MAY BE.) OH! little maid!—(I do not know your name Or who you are, so, as a safe precaution I’ll add)—Oh, buxom widow! married dame! (As one of these must be your present portion) Listen, while I unveil prophetic lore for you, And sing the fate that Fortune has in store for you. You’ll marry soon—within a year or twain— A bachelor of _circa_ two and thirty: Tall, gentlemanly, but extremely plain, And when you’re intimate, you’ll call him “BERTIE.” Neat—dresses well; his temper has been classified As hasty; but he’s very quickly pacified. You’ll find him working mildly at the Bar, After a touch at two or three professions, From easy affluence extremely far, A brief or two on Circuit—“soup” at Sessions; A pound or two from whist and backing horses, And, say three hundred from his own resources. Quiet in harness; free from serious vice, His faults are not particularly shady, You’ll never find him “_shy_”—for, once or twice Already, he’s been driven by a lady, Who parts with him—perhaps a poor excuse for him— Because she hasn’t any further use for him. Oh! bride of mine—tall, dumpy, dark, or fair! Oh! widow—wife, maybe, or blushing maiden, I’ve told _your_ fortune; solved the gravest care With which your mind has hitherto been laden. I’ve prophesied correctly, never doubt it; Now tell me mine—and please be quick about it!