A “Scion of Nobility”

Come, sisters, weep!⁠—our Baron dear,
  Alas! has run away.
If always we had kept him here
  He had not gone astray.

Painter and grainer it were vain
  To say he was, before;
And if he were, yet ne’er again
  He’ll darken here a door.

We mourn each matrimonial plan⁠—
  Even tradesmen join the cry:
He was so promising a man
  Whenever he did buy.

He was a fascinating lad,
  Deny it all who may;
Even “moneyed” men confess he had
  A very taking way.

So from our tables he is gone⁠—
  Our tears descend in showers;
We loved the very fat upon
  His kidneys, for ’twas ours.

To women he was all respect
  To duns as cold as ice;
No lady could his suit reject,
  No tailor get its price.

He raised our hope above the sky;
  Alas! alack! and O!
That one who worked it up so high
  Should play it down so slow.