Attracted by the dreadful din,
His mistress came below—
Who, who can speak her wonderment—
Who, who can paint her woe!
Great smears of soap were here and there—
Her startled vision met
With blots of lather everywhere,
And everything was wet!
Then Mrs. Taylor gave a shriek
Like one about to die;
"Get out—get out, and don't you dare
Come in till you are dry!"
With that she opened wide the door
And waved the critter through;
Out in the circumambient air
With grateful yelp he flew.
FITTE THE FIFTH.
He whisked into the dusty street
And to the Waller lot
Where bonny Annie Evans played
With charming Sissy Knott.
And with these pretty little dears
He mixed himself all up—
Oh, fie upon such boisterous play—
Fie, fie, you naughty pup!
Woe, woe on Annie's India mull,
And Sissy's blue percale!
One got the pup's belathered flanks,
And one his soapy tail!
Forth to the rescue of those maids
Rushed gallant Willie Clow;
His panties they were white and clean—
Where are those panties now?
Where is the nicely laundered shirt
That Kendall Evans wore,
And Robbie James' tricot coat
All buttoned up before?