Last Year I Trod These Fields With Di, Fields Fresh With Clover And With Rye; They Now Seem Arid! Then Di Was Fair And Single; How Unfair It Seems On Me, For Now Di'S Fair, And Married! A Blissful Swain, I Scorn'D The Song Which Says That Though Young Love Is Strong, The Fates Are Stronger; Breezes Then Blew A Boon To Men, The Buttercups Were Bright, And Then This Grass Was Longer. That Day I Saw And Much Esteem'D Di'S Ankles, Which The Clover Seem'D Inclined To Smother; It Twitch'D, And Soon Untied (For Fun) The Ribbon Of Her Shoes, First One, And Then The Other. I'm Told That Virgins Augur Some Misfortune If Their Shoe-Strings Come To Grief On Friday: And So Did Di, And Then Her Pride Decreed That Shoe-Strings So Untied Are "So Untidy!" Of Course I Knelt; With Fingers Deft I Tied The Right, And Then The Left; Says Di, "The Stubble Is Very Stupid! As I Live, I'm Quite Ashamed! I'm Shock'D To Give You So Much Trouble!" For Answer I Was Fain To Sink To What We All Would Say And Think Were Beauty Present: "Don't Mention Such A Simple Act, A Trouble? Not The Least! In Fact It's Rather Pleasant!" I Trust That Love Will Never Tease Poor Little Di, Or Prove That He's A Graceless Rover. SHe's Happy Now As Mrs. Smith And Less Polite When Walking With Her Chosen Lover! Heigh-Ho! Although No Moral Clings To Di'S Blue Eyes, And Sandal Strings, We've Had Our Quarrels! I Think That Smith Is Thought An Ass; I Know That When They Walk In Grass She Wears Balmorals.