Pussy said to the Owl, "You elegant fowl!How charmingly sweet you sing!O let us be married! too long we have tarried:But what shall we do for a ring?"
For I have a song to sing,O!? It is sung to the moon By a love-lorn loon, Who fled from the mocking throng,O! It's the song of a merryman moping mum, Whose soul was sad and whose glance was glum Who sipped no sup and who craved no crumb, As he sighed for the love of a ladye!Sir W(illiam) S(chwenck) Gilbert
For you alone I ride the ring,For you I wear the blue;For you alone I strive to sing,O tell me how to woo!