Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/The Old Bachelor
The Old Bachelor.
When I was a schoolboy, aged ten, Oh! mighty little Greek I knew;With my short striped trousers, and, now and then, With stripes upon my jacket too.When I saw other boys to the playground run, I threw my old gradus by;And I left the task I had scarce begun— "There'll be time enough for that," said I.
When I was at college, my pride was dress, And my groom, and my bit of blood,But as for my study, I must confess, That I was content with my stud.I was deep in my tradesmen's books, I'm afraid, Though not in my own, by-the-by;When clamorous creditors came to be paid, "There'll be time enough for that," said I.
I was just sixteen when I first fell in love, And I scribbled a deal of rhyme,And I talked to myself in a shady grove, And I thought I was quite sublime.I was torn from my love—'twas a dreadful blow— And the lady she wiped her eye;But I didn't die of grief—oh, dear me, no! "There'll be time enough for that," said I.
The next was a lady of rank—a dame With blood in her veins, you see;With the leaves of Peerage she fanned the flame That now was consuming me.But though of her great descent she spoke, I found she was still very high;And I thought looking up to a wife no joke— "There'll be time enough for that," said I.
My next penchant was for one whose face Was her fortune, she was so fair;Oh! she spoke with an air of enchanting grace, But a man cannot live upon air;And when poverty enters the door, young love Will out of the casement fly;The truth of the proverb Pd no wish to prove— "There'll be time enough for that," said I.
My next was a lady who loved romance, And wrote very splendid things;And she said, with a sneer, when I asked her to dance, "Sir, I ride upon a horse with wings."There was ink on her thumb, when I kissed her hand, And she whispered, "If you should die,I will write you an Epitaph, gloomy and grand I" "There'll be time enough for that," said I.
I left her and sported my figure and face At opera, party, and ball;I met pretty girls at every place, And I found a defect in all.The first did not suit me, I cannot tell how, The second, I cannot tell why,And the third, bless me, I will not marry now— "There'll be time enough for that," said I.
I looked in the glass, and I thought I could trace A sort of a wrinkle or two;So I made up my mind that I'd make up my face, And come out as good as new. To my hair I imparted a little more jet, And I scarce could suppress a sigh;But I cannot be quite an old bachelor yet, "No, there's time enough for that," said I.
I was now fifty-one, yet I still did adopt All the airs of a juvenile beau;But somehow, whenever the question I popped, The girls, with a laugh, said "No."I am sixty to-day, not a very young man, And a bachelor doomed to die;So youth be advised, and marry while you can— "There's no time to be lost," say I.