Or they laugh;
Or they cast adoring eyes
As they quaff.
They exert their every wile
Her attention to beguile.
Do they ever win a smile?
Not by half!

She leans upon her chin
(Not a toot!),
While the leading violin
And the flute
Wail and plead in low duet
Till, it may be, eyes are wet.
She her trombone doth forget--
She is mute.

The music louder grows;
She's awake!
She applies her lips and blows--
Goodness sake!......
To think that such a peal
From such throat and frame ideal,
From such tender lips could steal--
Takes the cake!

The dinning cymbals shrill
Kiss and clash.
Drum and kettle-drum at will
Roll and crash.