Was ever a moon

In joyous June

As royal, radiant, rare as she,

With her smiling lips,

As she lightly trips

Down through the autumn woods to me?

Never a queen

On her throne, I ween,

Had such a loyal slave as I.

Ready to bear

All her cares, I swear,

Just for a fleeting kiss on the sly.

Oh for the day

We gallop away

To the curate's cottage, Gretna Green;

Side by side,

Groom and bride,

Happy twenty and sweet sixteen!