For this, blithe Donald southward made his way
And left the lasses on the banks of Tay;
Him to a neighbouring garden fortune sent,
Whom we beheld, aspiringly content:
Patient and mild he sought the dame to please,
Who ruled the kitchen and who bore the keys.
Fair Lucy first, the laundry's grace and pride,
With smiles and gracious looks, her fortune tried;
But all in vain she praised his "pawky eyne,"
Where never fondness was for Lucy seen:
Him the mild Susan, boast of dairies, loved,
And found him civil, cautious and unmoved:
From many a fragrant simple, Catherine's skill
Drew oil and essence from the boiling still;
But not her warmth, nor all her winning ways
From his cool phlegm could Donald's spirit raise:
Of beauty heedless, with the merry mute,
To  he preferr'd his suit;
There proved his service, there address'd his vows,
And saw her mistress, — friend, — protectress, — spouse;
A butler now, he thanks his powerful bride,
And, like her keys, keeps constant at her side.