To the lot of our dear lit-tle Rose We trust every bless-ing may fall;

And then you will turn your face away, like the baron in the ballad, 'And brushed away the springing tear He proudly strove to hide,' Et cetera, et cetera,Finish the scene for yourself, with a 'Bless ye, my children; bless ye!'" "Go along, and marry the cat if you like!