Oh, he masheth her much in his nice new clothes,
Nor seeth the cheerful pup,
Till he roots up the road with his proud, proud nose,
While the little wheel tilteth up.
Oh, that youth on his knees—though he doth not pray—
Is a pitiful sight to see,
For his pants in their utterest part give way,
While merrily laugheth she.
And that bicycle man in his heart doth feel
That the worst of unsanctified jokes