[Caroline:]
The cuckoo is calling aloud to his mate,
The turtle dove coos in its nest;
[Meakin:]
Its nest!
[Caroline:]
And oh! I am longing to meet with my fate
Whose photo lies hid in my breast.
[Meakin:]
Her breast!
[Caroline:]
Ah, will he be tender and loving and sweet
To one so unworthy as me,
And fondle me much as I sit at his feet,
Or sometimes, perhaps on his knee!
[Meakin:]
Sometimes, perhaps on his knee!
[Caroline:]
Life is a pudding,
Life is a plum.
Into my brain, now and again,
Fancies like this will come.
Often I wonder,
Hour after hour,
When with my thumb I pull out a plum,
Will it be sweet or sour?
[Meakin:]
The sunbeams are wooing with tender caress
The blossoms that aren't in the shade.
[Caroline:]
The shade!
[Meakin:]
The dragonfly, in an extravagant dress,
Keeps buzzing a sweet serenade.
[Caroline:]
Serenade.
[Meakin:]
There's love in your heart
and there's love on the breeze,
There's love 'mid the flowers that bloom;
There's love 'neath the shade of the whispering trees,
Oh, love takes up far too much room!
[Caroline:]
Love takes up far too much room!
[Both:]
Life is an omelet;
Life is an egg.
Oh! what a true practical view,
Listen to me, I beg,
Excellent cooking will not avail;
All will depend on this in the end,
Is the egg fresh or stale?
Will it be sweet or sour?