– (Because I am so popular) — Accuse me of most awful crimes; A girl once said I was a flirt! Oh my! how the expression hurt!
I never flirted in the least, Never for very long, I mean, — Ask any lady (now deceased) Who partner of my life has been; — Oh well, of course, sometimes, perhaps, I meet a girl, like other chaps.
And, if I like her very much, And if she cares for me a bit, Where is the harm of look or touch If neither of us mentions it? It isn't right, I don't suppose, But no one's hurt if no one knows!
And, if I placed my hand below Her chin and raised her face an inch, And then proceeded – well, you know, — (Excuse the vulgarism) – to clinch; It would be wrong without a doubt, That is, if anyone found out.
But then, remember, Life is short And Woman's Arts are very long, And sometimes when one didn't ought One knowingly commits a wrong; Well – speaking for myself, of course, I almost always feel remorse.
One should not break one's self too fast Of little habits of this sort, Which may be definitely classed With gambling or a taste for port; They should be slowly dropped, until The Heart is subject to the Will.
I knew a man on Seventh Street Who, at a very slight expense, By persevering, was complete- Ly cured of total abstinence; An altered life he has begun And takes a horn with anyone.
I knew another man whose wife Was an invet'rate suicide, She daily strove to take her life And (naturally) nearly died; But some such system she essayed, And now she's eighty in the shade.
Ah, the new leaves I try to turn, But, like so many men in town, I seem, as with regret I learn, Merely to turn the corner down; A habit which I fear, alack! Makes it more easy to turn back.
I have been criticised a lot; I venture to enquire what for; Because, forsooth, I have not got The instincts of a bachelor! Just hear my story, you will find How grossly I have been maligned.
I was unlucky with my wives, So are the most of married men; Undoubtedly they lost their lives, — Of course, but even so, what then? I loved them dearly, understand, And I can love, to beat the band.
My first was little Emmeline, More beautiful than day was she; Her proud, aristocratic mien Was what at once attracted me. I naturally did not know That I should soon dislike her so.
But there it was! And you'll infer I had not very long to wait Before my red-hot love for her Turned to unutterable hate. So, when this state of things I found, I naturally had her drowned.
My next was Sarah, sweet but shy, And quite inordinately meek; Yes, even now I wonder why I had her hanged within the week. Perhaps I felt a bit upset, Or else she bored me, I forget.
Then came Evangeline, my third, And, when I chanced to be away, She, so I subsequently heard, Was wont (I deeply grieve to say) With my small retinue to flirt. I strangled her. I hope it hurt.
Isabel was, I think, my next, — (That is, if I remember right) — And I was really very vexed To find her hair come off at night; To falsehood I could not connive, And so I had her boiled alive.
Then came Sophia, I believe, Her coiffure was at least her own, Alas! she fancied to deceive Her friends by altering its tone. She dyed her locks a flaming red! I suffocated her in bed.
Susannah Maud was number six; But she did not survive a day; Poor Sue, she had no parlour tricks And hardly anything to say. A little strychnine in her tea Finished her off, and I was free.
Yet I did not despair, and soon! In spite of failures, started off Upon my seventh honeymoon With Jane; but could not stand her cough. 'Twas chronic. Kindness was in vain.
