And Satan be denuded of his mask.
[HE'S ALL RIGHT, BUT—!]
I like the good old-fashioned way—
A handshake or a slap,—
The boys who jab your ribs and say
"You're all right, Bill, Old Chap!"
I like the lad who sees you first
And always shouts your name,—
Who, tho your luck be at its worst,