Then Petrie, her lover, appeared at the door,
Remarking:  “My dear; I don’t love you no more.” 
“That’s awfully rough,” said the lady, “on me—­
Sing tooral iooral iooral iee.”

“Come in, Mr. Petrie,” she added, “pray do: 
Although you don’t love me no more, I love you. 
Sit down while I spray you with vitriol now—­
Sing tooral iooral iooral iow.”

Said Petrie:  “That liquid I know won’t agree
With my beauty, and then you’ll no longer love me;
So spray and be “—­O, what a word he did say!—­
Sing tooral iooral iooral iay.

She deluged his head and continued to pour
Till his bonny blue eyes, like his love, were no more. 
It was seldom he got such a hearty shampoo—­
Sing tooral iooral iooral ioo.

Then Petrie he rose and said:  “Mrs. Roselle,
I have an engagement and bid you farewell.” 
“You see,” she began to explain—­but not he!—­
Sing tooral, iooral, iooral iee.

The Sheriff he came and he offered his arm,
Saying, “Sorry I am for disturbin’ you, marm,
But business is business.”  Said she, “So they say—­
Sing tooral, iooral, iooral iay.”

The Judge on the bench he looked awfully stern;
The District Attorney began to attorn;
The witnesses lied and the lawyers—­O my!—­
Sing tooral, iooral, iooral iyi.

The chap that defended her said:  “It’s our claim
That he loved us no longer and told us the same. 
What else than we did could we decently do?—­
Sing tooral, iooral, iooral ioo.”

The District Attorney, sarcastic, replied: 
“We loved you no longer—­that can’t be denied. 
Not having no eyes we may dote on you now—­
Sing tooral, iooral, iooral iow.”

The prisoner wept to entoken her fears;
The sockets of Petrie were flooded with tears. 
O heaven-born Sympathy, bully for you!—­
Sing tooral, iooral, iooral ioo.

Four jurors considered the prisoner mad,
And four thought her victim uncommonly bad,
And four that the acid was all in his eye—­
Sing rum tiddy iddity iddity hi.

COUPLETS

    Intended for Inscription on a Sword Presented to Colonel
    Cutting of the National Guard of California.

I am for Cutting.  I’m a blade
Designed for use at dress parade. 
My gleaming length, when I display
Peace rules the land with gentle sway;
But when the war-dogs bare their teeth
Go seek me in the modest sheath. 
I am for Cutting.  Not for me
The task of setting nations free. 
Let soulless blades take human life,
My softer metal shuns the strife. 
The annual review is mine,
When gorgeous shopmen sweat and shine,
And Biddy, tip-toe on the pave,
Adores the cobble-trotting brave. 
I am for Cutting.  ’Tis not mine
To hew amain the hostile line;
Not mine all pitiless to spread
The plain with tumuli of dead.