The Sun Was Slumbering in the West

The sun was slumbering in the West, My daily labors past; On Anna's soft and gentle breast My head reclined at last; The darkness closed around, so dear To fond congenial souls, And thus she murmur'd at my ear, “My love, we're out of coals!

“That Mister Bond has call'd again, Insisting on his rent; And all the Todds are coming up      To see us, out of Kent— I quite forgot to tell you John Has had a tipsy fall— I'm sure there's something going on      WIth that vile Mary Hall!

“Miss Bell has bought the sweetest silk, And I have bought the rest— Of course, if we go out of town, Southend will be the best. I really think the Jones's house Would be the thing for us; I think I told you Mrs. Pope Had parted with her nus—

“Cook, by the way, came up today, To bid me suit myself— And what d'ye think? The rats have gnaw'd      The victuals on the shelf, And, lord! there's such a letter come, Inviting you to fight! Of course you don't intend to go— God bless you, dear, good night!”