When brides a sugar’d cake divide,
Their emblem they contrive ill:
Of all the compounds Love has tried,
The best is but a Trifle!
Cool common-sense the basis makes,
With wit enough to stir ye;
Like frosted rows of almond cakes
Well steep’d in sparkling sherry.
Then Fancy whisks the custard up,
Good Temper helps to sweeten;
But like the cream in Pleasure’s cup,
Wives sometimes should be beaten.
Thus froth above and frost below
The The feast of love & life fill —
Then take this trifling gift — you know
The best is but a Trifle!