Page:A Selection of Original Songs, Scraps, Etc., by Ned Farmer (1st ed.).djvu/32

 

That the heart's warmest throb, or affection's fond tear,
Are as naught to four hundred and fifty a year,
Through the ocean of life no fond couple can steer,
Save the freight is four hundred and fifty a year.

Now I rather imagine a woman's heart dear,
That is bought by four hundred and fifty a year;
Possessors of incomes, I pray you don't see her,
Or God help your four hundred and fifty a year.

Yet, faith! I'll be candid, take courage—draw near,
She's well worth four hundred and fifty a year;
I love her myself, but I cannot tell where
To get hold of four hundred and fifty a year.

So my chance is over, as things now appear,
And all through four hundred and fifty a year!
Still heaven await her; tho' mind you, up there
They heed not four hundreds and fifties a year!