And now the sacred rite was done, and the marriage-knot
was tied,
And Colt withdrew his blushing wife a little way aside;
"Let's go," he said, "into my cell; let's go alone, my dear;
I fain would shelter that sweet face from the sheriff's
odious leer.
The {039}jailer and the hangmen, they are waiting both for
me,--
I cannot bear to see them wink so knowingly at thee!
Oh, how I loved thee, dearest! They say that I am
wild,
That a mother dares not trust me with the weasand of
her child;
They say my bowie-knife is keen to sliver into halves
The carcass of my enemy, as butchers slay their calves.
They say that I am stern of mood, because, like salted
beef,
I packed my quartered foeman up, and marked him 'prime
tariff;'
Because I thought to palm him on the simple-souled John
Bull,
And clear a small percentage on the sale at Liverpool;
It may be so, I do not know--these things, perhaps,
may be;
But surely I have always been a gentleman to thee!
Then come, my love, into my cell, short bridal space is
ours,--
Nay, sheriff, never look thy watch--I guess there's good
two hours.
We'll shut the prison doors and keep the gaping world
at bay,
For love is long as 'tarnity, though I must die to-day!"