A thousand nightingales sing all the night through....

Your grand opera is silent, while our concert is in its fullest strain." The poem ends with a confession on the part of the poet of sundry pilferings committed by himself in the same place when a boy--of apple-trees broken, hedges forced, and vine-ladders scaled, winding up with the words: "Madame, you see I turn towards the past without a blush; will you?
What I have robbed I return, and return with usury.

I have no door to my vineyard; only two thorns bar its threshold.

When, through a hole I see the noses of marauders, instead of arming myself with a cane, I turn and go away, so that they may come back.

He who robbed when he was young, may in his old age allow himself to be robbed too." A most amicable sentiment, sure to be popular amongst the rising generation of Agen.
Ma Bigno is written in graceful and felicitous verse.