Till your wine-glass falls;

Bless me! this is pleasant,

Making New Year's calls.

Hostess looks delighted—

Out of doors you rush;

Sit down at the crossing,

In a sea of slush.

Job here for your tailor—

Herr Von Schneiderthals—

Bless me! this is pleasant,

Making New Year's calls.

Pick yourself up slowly

Heart with anguish torn.

Sunday-go-to-meetings

In a state forlorn.

Kick a gibing boot-black,

Gibing boot-black bawls,

Bless me! this is pleasant,

Making New Year's calls.

Home, and woo the downy,

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