FESTAL CHORUS .

The Boys .

W HAT is life widout a wife?
The G IRLS .

'Tis the bee widout his honey;
'Tis the hoard by misers stored;
'Tis the spendthrift's waste of money;
Spring and all her song-birds mute;
Summer wid no rosy flowers;
Autumn robbed of all his fruit;
Winter — and no fireside hours.

The G IRLS .

What is life widout a husband?

The Boys .

Poetry widout an iday;
Powdther, and the shot forgot;
Fish — and it foriver Friday;
Musha! night widout a moon;
Faix! and fever widout physic;
Troth! and music out of tune;
'Dad! and dancin' widout music.

The G IRLS .

Then, give over playin' rover,
Lads, wid Jacky-Lanthern Folly,
Fondly turnin' to the burnin'
Of Love's beacon bright and holy.

The Boys .

Now, girls, dear, whisper here!
Where 'll we find his guidin' beacon.

The G IRLS .

In the skies of woman's eyes
Fondly look, and one will waken.

The Boys .

Och! then you coquettes unthrue,
To one lad at last be list'nin',
Whilst your rose of beauty blows —
Whilst like goold your hair is glist'nin',

Yes! your charms into our arms
Yield, whilst you can still be patrons,
Or too late you'll mourn your fate,
Poor ould maids among the mations.