Mrs. Duffin, Mrs. Duffin!
Will you never have enough in?
All the pens of Brooklyn City,
Light or learned, grave or witty,
You are driving without pity
For the good of your committee!
Mrs. Duffin, Mrs. Duffin!
I feel flat as any muffin;
I have written sixty letters
For my worsers and my betters;
Won't you loose these iron fetters?
Am I still among your debtors?
Mrs. Duffin, Mrs. Duffin!
Does your mail-bag still need stuffin'?
I have passed full many a night o'
Sleepless work; and now, in spite o'
My desire to aid the fighter,
If my wits should grow no brighter,
I must cease my rhyming quite:—ah,
Sure the Muse can't say I alight her!