The rotten roof with great dispatch Received an outer coat of thatch, While boards soon frame a door. And time he in the garden found To sort the bed from paths around, And with the weeds wage war. Meanwhile the hours onward rolled, The clock the time had often told, The dame her cooking had completed, The pots and pans had all retreated, The house in ev'ry point seemed righted, Naught's out of place but those invited, Just to witness the sticking of two soles together, Tight as e'er gutta percha has stuck unto leather. Now although 'tis not late The dame likes not to wait, It puts her in such a great fidget; There is nothing to do She can put her hand to, Or her fever would crawl to each digit. The fair maidens for hours Had been decking with flow'rs The kitchen, and made it look gay As a ribbon-clad sweep Who from chimneys may creep To dance round a green (first of May). 'Tis a quarter to five, And the guests fast arrive, And each with him some present brings: One a roast pig had got, One a goose smoking hot, And numbers of other nice things. There were rabbits and hares, And prime roast-ducks in pairs, And pigeons delightfully cooked. Like a pic-nic it seemed, But might well have been deemed A banquet, so noble it looked. But a fear rising lest Some nice girl might like best To hear how the bride than the victuals were dress'd, In few words I'll express, Although feminine dress Is out of my line I must really confess; For when I've had a look, it Has but been to hook it,-- I never then thought I might chance have to book it. So I beg you'll excuse Me if strange terms I use,-- Such a trifling request you will scarcely refuse.