“dame, how the moments go— And the bride is not ready! Call all her tiring maids, Paul, Jean, and Thedie. Is this your robe, my dear? Faith, but she ’s steady! The bridegroom is blest who gets Such a brave lady.” “Pardi! That throat is fair— How he will kiss it! Here is your kerchief, girl; Did you not miss it? Quick, don these little shoes, White as your foot is. Ho, Jean, Saint Guillotine Loves these fine beauties!” “Now those long locks must go,— The bridegroom is waiting; Short is the hour he gives To wooing and mating. Thedie, you fool, the shears!— Time this was ended.”— Down falls the golden hair, Once lovingly tended. So from her prison doors Forth went the lady; Silent the Bridegroom stood, Not a sound made he. Oh, but he clasped her close! ’T was a brave lover.— “Dance, dance La Carmagnole! The bridal is over!”
The Bride's Toilette
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