KING CANUTE was weary hearted; he had reigned for years a score,
Battling, struggling, pushing, fighting, killing much and robbing more;
There lived a sage in days of yore,
And he a handsome pigtail wore;
But wondered much and sorrowed more,
Because it hung behind him.
Come to the greenwood tree,
Come where the dark woods be,
Dearest, O come with me!
Let us rove—O my love—O my love!
Although I enter not,
Yet round about the spot,
Ofttimes I hover,
And near the sacred gate,
Werther had a love for Charlotte
Such as words could never utter;
Would you know how first he met her?
She was cutting bread and butter.
Christmas is here:
Winds whistle shrill,
Icy and chill,
Little care we:
For the sole edification
Of this decent congregation,
Goodly people, by your grant
I will sing a holy chant --
Ho! pretty page, with the dimpled chin,
That never has known the Barber's shear,
All your wish is woman to win;
This is the way that boys begin--