out
When the Captain called in “just to see him” (no doubt)
But Mrs. McNair was so lonely—­too bad;
So he chatted and chattered and made her look glad. 
    And many a view
    Of his coat of blue,
All studded with buttons gilt, spangled and new,
    The dear lady took
    Half askance from her book,
As she modestly sat in the opposite nook. 
    Familiarly he
    And modestly she
Talked nonsense and sense so strangely commingled,
That the dear lady’s heart was delighted and tingled. 
    A man of sobriety
    Renown and variety
It could not be wrong to enjoy his society: 
    O was it a sin
    For him to “drop in,”
And sometimes to pat her in sport on the chin?

    Dear Ladies, beware;
    Dear Ladies, take care—­
How you play with a lion asleep in his lair: 
“Mere trifling flirtations”—­these arts you employ? 
Flirtations once led to the siege of old Troy;
    And a woman was in
For the sorrow and sin
And slaughter that fell when the Greeks tumbled in;
Nor is there a doubt, my dears, under the sun,
But they’ve led to the sack of more cities than one. 
    I would we were all
    As pure as Saint Paul
That we touched not the goblet whose lees are but gall;
But if so we must know where a flirtation leads;
Beware of the fair and look out for our heads. 
    Remember the odious,
    Frail woman, Herodias
Sent old Baptist John to a place incommodious,
And prevailed on her husband to cut off his head
For an indiscreet thing the old Nazarite said.

    Day in and day out
    The blue coat was about;
And the dear little lady was glad when he came
And began to be talkative, tender and tame. 
Then he gave her a ring, begged a curl of her hair,
And smilingly whispered her—­“don’t tell McNair.” 
    She dropped her dark eyes
    And with two little sighs
Sent the bold Captain’s heart fluttering up to the skies.

    Then alas—­
    What a pass! 
He fell at the feet of the lady so sweet,
And swore that he loved her beyond his control—­
With all his humanity—­body and soul! 
    The lady so frail
    Turned suddenly pale,
Then—­sighed that his love was of little avail;
For alas, the dear Captain—­he must have forgot—­
She was tied to McNair with a conjugal knot. 
  But indeed
  She agreed—­
Were she only a maid he alone could succeed;
But she prayed him by all that is sacred and fair,
Not to rouse the suspicion of Mr. McNair.

  ’Twas really too bad,
  For the lady was sad: 
And a terrible night o’t the poor lady had,
While Mr. McNair wondered what was the matter,
And endeavored to coax, to console and to flatter. 
  Many tears she shed
  That night while in bed
For she had such a terrible pain in her head! 
“My dear little pet, where’s the camphor?” he said;
“I’ll go for the doctor—­you’ll have to be bled;
I declare, my dear wife, you are just about dead.”