He must be old whom I could love, 
Then he'll not plague me long; 
In sooth 'twill be a pleasant sight, 
To see him borne along. 

To where the croaking ravens lurk, 
And where the earth worms dwell; 
A widow's hood will suit my face, 
And black becomes me well. 

And he must make a settlement, 
I'll have no man without; 
And when he writes his testament, 
He must not leave me out. 

Oh! such a man as this would suit 
Each wish I here express; 
If he should say, -- Will you have me? 
I'll very soon say -- Yes!