SAUCE FOR THE GOOSE.
["The plain truth is that there are very few jobs that could not be done by women as well as they are being done by men."—Daily Paper.]
Chloe, in the placid days
Ere the war-clouds gathered,
I was prodigal in praise
Of your charm and winning ways;
You became a cult, a craze
(Heavens, how I blathered!);
With an ardour undismayed and treacly
I proposed (without success) bi-weekly.
Now, my dear, it's up to you
To become the hero;
Show us how a man should woo
When he wills to win, and do
Teach us how to bill and coo
With our hopes at zero.
Chloe, for a change (it may amuse you),
You propose to me—and I'll refuse you.
From an auction catalogue:—
"PRINCESS, Brown Mare, 7 years, 15-3, has been ridden by a nervous person, good manners, trained to the High School, Hant-le-Cole."
Haute Êcole manners are usually of the best and we are glad that Hant-le-Cole, which we have been unable to find on the map, provides no exception.
