How pleasures of thought surpass eating and
My pleasure of thought is the pleasure of thinking How pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho! How pleasant it is to have money.
Come along, 'tis the time, ten or more minutes past,
And he who came first had to wait for the last, The oysters ere this had been in and been out; While I have been sitting and thinking about How pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho! How pleasant it is to have money.
A clear soup with eggs; voilà tout; of the fish
The filets de sole are a moderate dish
A la Orly, but you're for red mullet, you say:
By the gods of good fare, who can question to-day
How pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho!
How pleasant it is to have money.
After oysters, Sauterne; then Sherry; Champagne,
Ere one bottle goes, comes another again;
Fly up, thou bold cork, to the ceiling above,
And tell to our ears in the sounds that we love
How pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho!
How pleasant it is to have money.
I've the simplest of tastes; absurd it may
But I almost could dine on a poulet-au-riz,
Fish and soup and omelette, and that-but the
There were to be woodcocks, and not Charlotte
So pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho!
So pleasant it is to have money.
Your Chablis is acid, away with the Hock,
Give me the pure juice of the purple Médoc;
St. Peray is exquisite; but, if you please,
Some Burgundy first before tasting the cheese.
So pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho!
So pleasant it is to have money.
As for that, pass the bottle, and hang the expense-
I've seen it observed by a writer of sense,
That the labouring classes could scarce live a day
If people like us didn't eat, drink, and pay.
So useful it is to have money, heigh-ho!
So useful it is to have money.
One ought to be grateful, I quite apprehend,
Having dinner and supper and plenty to spend,
And so suppose now, while the things go away,
By way
of a grace we all stand up and say
How pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho!
How pleasant it is to have money.
I cannot but ask in the park and the streets, When I look at the number of persons one meets, Whate'er in the world the poor devils can do Whose fathers and mothers can't give them a
So needful it is to have money, heigh-ho!
So needful it is to have money.
I ride and I drive, and I care not a d—n,
The people look up and they ask who I am;
And if I should chance to run over a cad,
I can pay for the damage, if ever so bad.
So useful it is to have money, heigh-ho!
So useful it is to have money.
It was but this winter I came up to town,
And already I'm gaining a sort of renown,
Find my way to good houses without much ado,
Am beginning to see the nobility too.
So useful it is to have money, heigh-ho!
So useful it is to have money.
O dear! what a pity they ever should lose it,
Since they are the people who know how to use it,
So easy, so stately, such manners, such dinners;
And yet, after all, it is we are the winners.
So needful it is to have money, heigh-ho!
So needful it is to have money.
It is all very well to be handsome and tall,
Which certainly makes look well at a ball,
you
It's all very well to be clever and witty,
But if
you are poor, why it's only a pity.
So needful it is to have money, heigh-ho!
So needful it is to have money.
There's something, undoubtedly, in a fine air,
To know how to smile and be able to stare,
High breeding is something, but well bred or not,
In the end the one question is, what have you got?
So needful it is to have money, heigh-ho!
So needful it is to have money.
And the angels in pink and the angels in blue, In muslins and moirés so lovely and new, What is it they want, and so wish you to guess, But if have you the answer is money, So needful, they tell you, is money, heigh-ho! So needful it is to have money.
AIR cousin mine! the golden days
Of old romance are over,
And minstrels now care nought for bays,
Nor damsels for a lover;
And hearts are cold, and lips are mute
That kindled once with passion,
And now we've neither lance nor lute,
And tilting's out of fashion.
Yet weeping Beauty mourns the time
When Love found words in flowers;
When softest sighs were breathed in rhyme,
And sweetest songs in bowers;
Now wedlock is a sober thing
No more of chains or forges!
A plain young man—a plain gold ring—
The curate--and St. George's.
cross-bow had a string,
And every heart a fetter;
And making love was quite the thing,
And making verses better;
And maiden aunts were never seen,
And gallant beaux were plenty;
And lasses married at sixteen,
And died at one-and-twenty.
Then hawking was a noble sport,
And chess a pretty science;
And huntsmen learnt to blow a morte,
And heralds a defiance.
And knights and spearmen show'd their might,
And timid hinds took warning;
And hypocras was warm'd at night
And coursers in the morning.
Then plumes and pennons were prepared,
And patron-saints were lauded,
And noble deeds were bravely dared,
And noble dames applauded;
And Beauty play'd the leech's part,
And wounds were heal'd with syrup;
And warriors sometimes lost a heart,
But never lost a stirrup.
Then there was no such thing as Fear,
And no such word as Reason;
And Faith was like a pointed spear,
And Fickleness was treason;
And hearts were soft, though blows were hard;
But when the fight was over,
A brimming goblet cheer'd the board,
His Lady's smile the lover.
Ah, these were glorious days! The moon
Had then her true adorers;
And there were lyres and lutes in tune,
And no such thing as snorers.
And lovers swam, and held at nought
Streams broader than the Mersey;
And fifty thousand would have fought
For a smile from Lady Jersey.
Then people wore an iron vest,
And had no use for tailors;
And the artisans who lived the best
Were armourers and nailers;
|