When Tyndarus heard the disaster,
He crackled and thunder'd like Etna,
So out gallop'd Pollux and Castor,
And caught her a furlong from Gretna.
Singing rattledum, Greek Romanorum,
And hey classicality row.
Singing birchery, floggera, borum,
And folderol whack rowdy dow.

The newspapers puffed her each day,
Till the princes of Greece came to woo her,
Then coaxing the rest to give way,
She took Menalaus unto her,
So said they, "though we grieve to resign,
Yet if ever you're put to a shift,
Let your majesty drop us a line,
And we'll all of us lend you a lift.
With our rattledum, &c."

Menelaus was happy to win her.
But she soon found a cure for his passion,
By hobbing or nobbing at dinner,
With Paris, a Trojan of fashion.
This chap was a slyish young dog,
The most jessamy fellow in life,
For he drank Menalaus' grog,
And d--me made off with his wife.
Singing rattledum, &c.

The princes were sent for, who swore