Coquetry is the champagne of love.
The Quaker loves an ample brim, A hat that bows to no salaam; And dear the beaver is to him As if it never made a dam.
The best of friends fall out, and so his teeth had done some years ago.
The year's in wane; There is nothing adorning; The night has no eve, And the day has no morning; Cold winter gives warning!
How bless'd the heart that has a friend. A sympathizing ear to lend.
And there is even a happiness That makes the heart afraid.