Said she, 'You bet I will,
Faster and faster.'
But 'twas too dark to see,
I tripped upon a tree,
And she fell over me,
Quite a disaster!
"That spoiled our tete-a-tete.
Ah me! must I relate
Abigail's hapless fate?
They made me leave her.
And for her prison bower,
Prex built that festive tower,
Standing this very hour,
Just back of Sever.
"Then the maid pined away.
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