Lay Of The Lover's Friend, The

|Air| "The days we went a-gipsying."     I would all womankind were dead,         Or banished o'er the sea;     For they have been a bitter plague         These last six weeks to me:     It is not that I'm touched myself,         For that I do not fear;     No female face hath shown me grace         For many a bygone year.             But 'tis the most infernal bore,                 Of all the bores I know,             To have a friend who's lost his heart                 A short time ago.     Whene'er we steam it to Blackwall,         Or down to Greenwich run,     To quaff the pleasant cider cup,         And feed on fish and fun;     Or climb the slopes of Richmond Hill,         To catch a breath of air:     Then, for my sins, he straight begins         To rave about his fair.             Oh, 'tis the most tremendous bore,                 Of all the bores I know,             To have a friend who's lost his heart                 A short time ago.     In vain you pour into his ear         Your own confiding grief;     In vain you claim his sympathy,         In vain you ask relief;     In vain you try to rouse him by         Joke, repartee, or quiz;     His sole reply's a burning sigh,         And "What a mind it is!"             O Lord! it is the greatest bore,                 Of all the bores I know,             To have a friend who's lost his heart                 A short time ago.     I've heard her thoroughly described         A hundred times, I'm sure;     And all the while I've tried to smile,         And patiently endure;     He waxes strong upon his pangs,         And potters o'er his grog;     And still I say, in a playful way,         "Why you're a lucky dog!"             But oh! it is the heaviest bore,                 Of all the bores I know,             To have a friend who's lost his heart                 A short time ago.     I really wish he'd do like me         When I was young and strong;     I formed a passion every week,         But never kept it long.     But he has not the sportive mood         That always rescued me,     And so I would all women could         Be banished o'er the sea.             For 'tis the most egregious bore,                 Of all the bores I know,             To have a friend who's lost his heart                 A short time ago.