Oh, come and be my Queen,
And share my lot
In some artistic cot
At Turnham Green,
EVANGELINE!
The painted tambourine
Shall grace its wall,
And many a table small
And folding screen
Shall on its floor be seen,
EVANGELINE!
Your beauty's dazzling sheen
Upsets me quite--
Of late my appetite
Has wretched been,
EVANGELINE!
I shun the soup tureen
And pine for you;
At pudding, joint, and stew
My face turns green--
What do the symptoms mean,
EVANGELINE?
If Fate should come between
My Love and me,
This countenance will be
No more serene,
EVANGELINE!
With nitro-glycerine
I'll speed my flight,
Or else I will ignite
Some Magazine--
Some _Powder_ Magazine,
EVANGELINE!
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