"It is ascertained by inspection of the registers of many countries, that the uniform proportion of male to female births is as 21 to 20: accordingly, in respect to marriage, every 21st man is naturally superfluous." -- TREATISE ON POPULATION. I LONG have been puzzled to guess, And so I have frequently said, What the reason could really be That I never have happened to wed; But now it is perfectly clear, I am under a natural ban; The girls are already assigned, -- And I'm a superfluous man! Those clever statistical chaps Declare the numerical run Of women and men in the world, Is Twenty to Twenty-and-one; And hence in the pairing, you see, Since wooing and wedding began, For every connubial score, They've got a superfluous man! By twenties and twenties they go, And giddily rush to their fate, For none of the number, of course, Can fail of a conjugal mate; But while they are yielding in scores To Nature's inflexible plan, There's never a woman for me, -- For I'm a superfluous man! It is n't that I am a churl, To solitude over-inclined; It is n't that I am at fault In morals, or manners, or mind; Then what is the reason, you ask, I'm still with the bachelor-clan? I merely was numbered amiss, -- And I'm a superfluous man! It is n't that I am in want Of personal beauty or grace, For many a man with a wife Is uglier far in the face; Indeed, among elegant men I fancy myself in the van; But what is the value of that, When I'm a superfluous man? Although I am fond of the girls, For aught I could ever discern The tender emotion I feel Is one that they never return; 'T is idle to quarrel with fate, For, struggle as hard as I can, They're mated already, you know, -- And I'm a superfluous man! No wonder I grumble at times, With women so pretty and plenty, To know that I never was born To figure as one of the Twenty; But yet, when the average lot With critical vision I scan, I think it may be for the best That I'm a superfluous man! |