A cunning woman told me once, Such fortune would turn up; She was a kind of sorceress, But studied in a cup! IX. So he walk’d up to Lady Wye, And took her quite amazed,-- She thought, tho’ John was tall enough, He wanted to be raised. X. But John--for why? she was a dame Of such a dwarfish sort-- Had only come to bid her make Her mourning very short. XI. Said he, your Lord is dead and cold, You only cry in vain; Not all the Cries of London now, Could call him back again! XII. You’ll soon have many a noble beau, To dry your noble tears-- But just consider this, that I Have follow’d you for years. XIII. And tho’ you are above me far, What matters high degree, When you are only four feet nine And I am six foot three. XIV. For tho’ you are of lofty race, And I’m a low-born elf; Yet none among your friends could say You matched beneath yourself. XV. Said she, such insolence as this Can be no common case; Though you are in my service, sir, Your love is out of place. XVI. O Lady Wye! O Lady Wye! Consider what you do; How can you be so short with me, I am not so with you? XVII. Then ringing for her serving men, They show’d him to the door: Said they, you turn out better now, Why didn’t you before? XVIII. They stripp’d his coat, and gave him kicks For all his wages due; And off, instead of green and gold, He went in black and blue. XIX. No family would take him in, Because of this discharge; So he made up his mind to serve The country all at large. XX. Huzza! the Serjeant cried, and put The money in his hand, And with a shilling cut him off From his paternal land. XXI. For when his regiment went to fight At Saragossa town, A Frenchman thought he look’d too tall And so he cut him down! THE WIDOW. One widow at a grave will sob A little while, and weep, and sigh! If two should meet on such a job, They’ll have a gossip by and by. If three should come together--why, Three widows are good company! If four should meet by any chance, Four is a number very nice, To have a rubber in a trice-- But five will up and have a dance!