My Madeline! my Madeline! Mark my melodious midnight moans, Much may my melting music mean, My modulated monotones. My mandolin’s mild minstrelsy, My mental music magazine, My mouth, my mind, my memory, Must mingling murmur “Madeline.†Muster ‘mid midnight masquerade, Mark Moorish maidens, matrons’ mien; ‘Mongst Murcia’s most majestic maids, Match me my matchless Madeline. Mankind’s malevolence may make Much melancholy musing mine; Many my motives may mistake, My modest merits much malign. My Madeline’s most mirthful mood Much mollifies my mind’s machine; My mournfulness’s magnitude Melts–make me merry, Madeline! Match-making ma’s may machinate, Manoeuvring misses me misween; Mere money may make many mate, My magic motto’s “Madeline.†Melt, most mellifluous melody, ‘Midst Murcia’s misty mounts marine; Meet me ‘mid moonlight–marry me, Madonna mia! My Madeline!
