I dreamt (I was deep in
The middle of sleepin')
That as it was leap-year, the ladies — the ladies,
Young bachelors stopping,
Forthwith began popping
The question-which bold Jim afraid is — afraid is.
My slavey she swore,
As she knelt on the floor
(I was cautioned by many a leer of it — leer of it),
She lived but for me,
If I'd only love she!
But I told her that I wouldn't hear of it — hear of it.
An elderly dame,
She confessed to a flame
(Though she's older by far than my mother — my mother)
Which, dreading my jeers,
For a number of years
She had struggled, but vainly, to smother — to smother.
So many a mile,
To the source of the Nile,
She had made up her mind she would carry me — carry me;
And having got there,
For a wedding prepare,
For she fully intended to marry me — marry me!
Attractive young girls,
And old maidens in curls
(I ascribe it to faulty digestion — digestion),
And ladies of rank,
Young and plump, old and lank,
All set to work popping the question — the question!
And I thought one and all,
Thin and fat, short and tall,
The alternative gave of a match or law — match or law!
Which opened my eyes
With excessive surprise,
For I am not a popular bachelor — bachelor.