There is silence in the parlor, and the pretty girl sits

still,
And her coolness fills our hero with an awful kind of

pain ;
But his spirit quite collapses when she says in tones

that kill,
' My mother does 'nt like you, and you must n't come

again.'

He stammers out a hope that she 's probably mistaken,
And a hope goes rushing o'er him like a shadow
o'er a plain ;

But she lisps a little sentence, like the lisp of babe for-
saken :

' My father does n't like you, and you must n't come
again.'

But still his heart is warlike, and he makes one more

attempt ;
But the answer that she gives him fills his noble

heart with pain
(From the pangs of living none of us were ever yet

exempt)
u My brothers do not like you, and you must n't come

again.'

His feeble knees are shaken, and the dew upon his fore-
head

Was hanging thick as Ceylon's pearls on Bishop
Heber's plain ;

But she took a little pencil and she wrote upon the door
head,

' My sisters do not like you you must n't come again.'

Then he pulled a hundred thousand from his pockets

with a swing ;
She blushed the gentle creature and the love light

came again ;
You ought 've said you had it, you naughty, naughty

thing!'

And the family sang a chorus, ' Old chappie, come
again!'