“He was a jolly young fellow,” she added. “Fancy calling himself Bill Bailey!” and she pealed merrily. “I wonder what’s become of him; he hasn’t been here for months,” she added. “Here’s some more poetry:—
“There’s nothing like a Lion that’s Red
For pleasant food and comfy bed.
I mean to come and stay again,
But now must run and catch my train.
Algernon Mull,
296, Broad Walk, Ealing.
“Don’t you think it’s wonderful to be able to make up poytry like that?” Mrs. Tally continued. “I do. I’ve tried, but I never could do anything worth repeating, and as for writing in a Visitors’ Book!... Don’t you agree with me?” she asked.
“Certainly,” I said. “It’s a real gift, there’s no doubt about it. A gift.”
“Yes,” she said, “a gift. That’s what it is. Here’s another funny one.”
I read: “The Ten Thirsty Tiddlers visited the old Red Lion for the fifteenth time. Everything A1 as usual.”