Classic Poem

With Galla it once was—‘Two hundred, mon cher’—
And I will confess it, she did not seem dear.
A year passed away, and one hundred seemed more,
When she sank to that figure, than two had before.
Another half-year and 'twas—‘Twenty I'll make it’
I offered her ten, but she said—‘I can't take it’.
Two or three months went by and I got a short note—
‘Five pounds I am asking’—the good lady wrote.
I did not respond, so she came to a pound,
And even a sovereign too much I found.
When we met the next time, she was willing to have
The paltry half-crown I had given my slave.
Do you think she was able much lower to go?
Yes. ‘Take me for nothing’. My answer was—‘No’.