--
Methought that the Genius of Matrimony
Before me stood with a joyous leer,
Leading a husband in each hand,
And both for _me_, which lookt rather queer;--
_One_ I could perfectly understand,
But why there were _two_ wasn't quite so clear.
T'was meant however, I soon could see,
To afford me a _choice_--a most excellent plan;
And--who should this brace of candidates be,
But Messrs. O'Mulligan and Magan:--
A thing, I suppose, unheard of till then,
To dream, at once, of _two_ Irishmen!--
That handsome Magan, too, with wings on his shoulders
(For all this past in the realms of the Blest.)
And quite a creature to dazzle beholders;
While even O'Mulligan, feathered and drest
As an elderly cherub, was looking his best.
Ah Liz, you, who know me, scarce can doubt
As to _which_ of the two I singled out.
But--awful to tell--when, all in dread
Of losing so bright a vision's charms,
I graspt at Magan, his image fled,
Like a mist, away, and I found but the head
Of O'Mulligan, wings and all, in my arms!
The Angel had flown to some nest divine.
And the elderly Cherub alone was mine!
Heigho!--it is certain that foolish Magan
Either can'tor won't see that he _might_ be the man;
And, perhaps, dear--who knows?--if naught better befall
But--O'Mulligan _may_ be the man, after all.
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