how the rake repented when he saw how his casualty cried:
swan lake, swan’s ache,
first swansong i’ve longed to take:
what i have made, let me unmake;
what once i wished, i now forsake.
how the wrongstress, wise, replied:
fired, wired, well desired,
what other way do you know?
for all the cares your fine face bears,
i’m sure your shame’s a show.