They tell us, May, that love is blind,
But dear, there’s something on my mind;
And since we now are engaged,
I hope you will not be enraged.
Can you, dear May, now bear the news
From the poor husband vou would choose;
I fear to tell you, but I must,
That I am a somnambulist.
Said she, “Dear Dick, I will not lurch,
But stick to you if that’s your church;
Though I own, as a tender maid
Of your belief I was afraid.
But now the name I do not heed,
And will adopt it as my creed;
Though, alas, she soon is weeping
To see her husband walking sleeping.