"The Watkins Evening Party" (1849)
The Words By J. M. Roe, Esq.
The Music Composed and Sung 
By J. L. Hatton.

Boston: Oliver Ditson, 115 Washington Street, 1849.
[Source: 050/089@Levy]

Mister Watkins was persuaded by his wife 
to give an evening party;
Music cards, 
dancing too— songs, polkas— whist, escarte; 
Mister W, was a 
City man— loved good eating— 
was fat and funny; 
Misstress W. 
had fashionable views— 
and helped (rather) 
to spend the money. 
Mistress Watkins has “never seen friends” she declares, 
since last she departed for pretty Broadstairs. 
Very well, very well, Misstress Watkins, 
What shall I do? what shall I do? 
Give a party, Mister Watkins, 
Pray now do!   pray now do— 
Mister W., Good natured man, 
his wife’s wishes he wouldn’t gainsay ’em
 But said, “give your party;
send me the bills,
and I’ll try if I can pay ’em”—
They come to tea, when daylight sets,
(Those who come to tea;)
Some in Cabs, (hem!) Cabriolets—
Some on foot you see.

The dim commences, 
Polka, talking, dancing,
Singing— “Been to the opera yet?”— 
“First set”— 
They’re bringing Miss Martha Mumble to the Instrument: 
On execution dreadful she is bent. 
She’s hoarse— (of course) and she’d much rather not— 
Yet down she sits as if glued to the spot, 
And thus begins 
“Flow on thou shining”— 
“Sherry?”— 
“Most  happy Sir!” 
“A pretty song that?”— 
“Ver y!”
No more is heard save chatter, 
glasses ringing, spoiling completely 
the young Lady’s singing.— 
But at the end applause— 
“A little jelly?” 
And “are you not a pupil of Crevelli?” 
But now three gentlemen who love to sing, 
And always rolls of music with them bring, 
Stand up to please themselves (at least not me) 
By the performance of a worn out glee: 
The Alton shows his teeth, (the sweet Falsetto)
Warbles the notes, despising the libretto: 
Breathe soft ye winds, ye waters cease to flow 
The Tenor’s rather weak, so he (see Gray) 
“Keeps on the noiseless tenor of his way” 
Breathe soft ye winds, ye waters cease to flow 
The Bass that thin man with the sunken cheeks,— 
Sings in the rough, gruff voice in which he speaks 
Now they begin— 
they beat the talking hollow; 
While they give out their “Glorious Apollo.” 
Supper’s annouced— down go they two and two. 
And what a prospect bursts upon the view: 
of Fowls both roast and boiled there is no lack; 
Ducks, like dead doctors, which have ceas’d to quack: 
Hams from huge swine that could not “save their bacon;” 
Tongues that once more, in mouths, are to be shaken; 
And “game preserved” (in crust) with greatest care 
Lobsters, prawns, with triffles light as air; 
“Cum multis aliis” 
Which you’ll translate here, with many Scotch ales— 
No pains are spared not even the Champagne; 
It comes, it goes— bang— hiss— tis down again! 
And now the supper’s donw— “a toast! a toast!” 
The gruff bass voice gives” our hostess and our host”— 
Loud cheers— they drink who have not drunk before; 
And those who have— why now they drink some more. 
Watkins stands up, and smiling on his wife 
Says, “This is the happiest moment of my life”— 
His speech was given with his utmost force 
Beginning, “Unaccustumed as I am,” (of course) 
But with his speech I need not further trouble you 
He returned thanks for self and Misstress W. 
More cheers, more wine— fatigue and late hours scorning, 
In fact some sing, 
“we’ll not go home till morning, 
we’ll not go home till morning, 
we’ll not go home till morning”— 
Nor do they till “daylight doth indeed appear.” 
Now they break up “good night, my dear Miss Gold; 
Wrap yourself up; for heaven’s sake don’t take cold:” 
Such shakes and lots of such kind wishes, 
Warmed into life begood wine and good dishes; 
“Good night! good night!” and now the last shake hearty. 
And thus doth end the Watkins Evening Party.