Nay, I cannot come into the garden just now, Tho' it vexes me much to refuse: But I must have the next set of waltzes, I vow, With Lieutenant de Boots of the Blues. ...
Oh, the days were ever shiny When I ran to meet my love; When I press'd her hand so tiny Through her tiny tiny glove. Was I very deeply smitten? Oh, I loved like anything!...