We depend on you; all the girls say
That you 've really not treated us fairly,
For the Dean will not know you 're away.
Fond fancy brings back in my day-dreams
All the fun that we had, dear, last year;
But all that I now have to say seems
To put your not coming past fear.
I am not now jealous of Carry. O,
Her castle of air had a fall!
I know you 're a gay young Lothario,
But, Charley, you 'll come to our ball!
You 'll see your pert friend, little Alice,
And all your old flames from our school:
I assure you I bear them no malice;
I 'm sixteen, and not such a fool.