Her locks are confined by a ribbon;
Her language is open and free;
She talks like a parrot, she's glib on
The problems that petrify me;
Her phrases are novel; to-day, what
I marvel at most are the queer
Little statements she clinches with "Eh, what!"
Tacked on to "Old dear!"
Though chaperons tell her where minxes
Are certain to go when they die,