Ladies and gentlemen, Enlighten'd as you are, you all must know Our playhouse was burnt down, some time ago Without insurance—'Twas a famous blaze, Fine fun for firemen, but dull sport for plays. The proudest of our whole dramatic corps Such warm reception never met before. It was a woeful night for us and ours; Worse than dry weather to the fields and flowers. The evening found us gay as summer's lark, Happy as sturgeons in the Tappan Sea; The morning—like the dove from Noah's Ark, As homeless, houseless, innocent as she, But—thanks to those who ever have been known To love the public interest—when their own; Thanks to the men of talent and of trade, Who joy in doing well—when they're well paid, Again our fire-worn mansion is rebuilt, Inside and outside, neatly carv'd and gilt, With best of paint and canvas, lath and plaster, The Lord bless Beekman and John Jacob Astor. |