Ballade of Dead Gentlemen

Where , in what bubbly land, below
What rosy horizon dwells to-day
That worthy man Monsieur Cliquot
Whose widow has made the world so gay?
Where now is Mr Tanqueray?
Where might the King of Sheba be
(Whose wife stopped dreadfully long away)?
Mais o u sont messieurs les maris?

Say where did Mr Beeton go
With rubicund nose and whiskers grey
To dream of dumplings long ago,
Of syllabubs, soups, and entremets ?
In what dim isle did Twankey lay
His aching head? What murmuring sea
Lulls him after the life-long fray?
Mais o u sont messieurs les maris?

How Mr Grundy's cheeks may glow
By a bathing-pool where lovelies play,
I guess, but shall I ever know?
Where — if it comes to that, who , pray —
Is Mr Masham? Sevigne
And Mr Siddons and Zebedee
And Gamp and Hemans, where are they?
Mais o u sont messieurs les maris?

Princesses all, beneath your sway
In this grave world they bowed the knee;
Libertine airs in Elysium say
Mais o u sont messieurs les maris?
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