18
The Ten of Clubs.
L.—’Tis not your fortune, wit or birth,
Can the day of death defer;
You’ll soon return to parent earth,
And mix your lovely dust with her.
G.—Bad luck to a woman, good to a man,
And it happens so often through life;
Let the man who draws this, deny if he can,
That he quickly shall bury his wife.
The Knave of Clubs.
L.—Though such I pity your sad fate,
Yet does my pity come too late,
To ward off fortune’s rubs?
Though you the queen of hearts should prove
A surly brute shall gain your love,
The very knave of clubs.
G.—Whatever you presume to say,
The world will take a different way,
Ere well your words transpire;
Ask you, good sir, the reason why,
You’ll know my answer is no lie,
No one believes a liar.
The Queen of Clubs.
L.—Ah ! madam, too well you love kissing, I find,
My reasons I scarcely need tell you;
For while you draw this by a fortune so kiud,
Your looks altogether belie you.
G.—And here comes the hero that’s got a bashed hat,
Lord, sir, you your blushes may spare,
For the world well knows what you have been at,
You’ve been out all night on the beer.
