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!