To some Continental retreat.
On Frenchman and German you'll lavish
The smiles that can madden me still;
While I, with the gillie McTavish,
Am breasting the heather-clad hill.

Oh, do you remember the dances,
The dearest were those we sat out,
How I frowned when detecting your glances
On others, which caused you to pout?
You are changeful and coy and capricious,
A weathercock easily blown;
But when shall I hear the delicious
One word that proclaims you my own?

They say that an eloquent passion
Has long become quite out of date,
That true love is never the fashion,
And marriage a wearisome state.
They conjure up many a bogie,
To guard a man's bachelor life,
And keep him a selfish old fogey,
And stop him from taking a wife.

They vow that a wife needs a carriage,
And opera-boxes and stalls,
That money's the one thing in marriage,
And cheques are as common as calls.
They say women shy (like some horses)
At vows made to love and obey;