Won't take a homely one;
Must have some sort o' one:
What shall I do?"
"Why, Constantine, are you so smart at Polish begging?" asked Babbett. "Is it true that Emmerence sent you next door with a 'God help you'?"
"I'll bet you three pints of the best that she'll go to the bel-wether dance with me, and with nobody else."
Florian sang,--
"Fret for a pretty girl?
That would be a shame:
Turn to the next one,
And ask for her name."