From black under-clothing—and any color but white; from hips that wobble as one walks; from persons with fishy eyes; from the books of Archibald C. Gunter and Albert Ross: Kind Devil, deliver me.
From the soft persistent, maddening glances of water-cart drivers: Kind Devil, deliver me.
From lisle-thread stockings; from round, tight garters; from brilliant brass belts: Kind Devil, deliver me.
From insipid sweet wine; from men who wear moustaches; from the sort of people that call legs “limbs”; from bedraggled white petticoats: Kind Devil, deliver me.
From unripe bananas; from bathless people; from a waist-line that slopes up in the front: Kind Devil, deliver me.
From an ordinary man; from a bad stomach, bad eyes, and bad feet: Kind Devil, deliver me.
From red note-paper; from a rhinestone-studded comb in my hair; from weddings: Kind Devil, deliver me.
From cod-fish balls; from fried egg plant, fried beef-steak, fried pork-chops, and fried French toast: Kind Devil, deliver me.
From wax flowers off a wedding-cake, under glass; from thin-soled shoes; from tape-worms; from photographs perched up all over my house: Kind Devil, deliver me.
From soft old bachelors and soft old widowers; from any masculine thing that wears a pale blue necktie; from agonizing elocutionists who recite “Curfew Shall Not Ring To-Night,” and “The Lips That Touch Liquor Shall Never Touch Mine”; from a Salvation Army singing hymns in slang: Kind Devil, deliver me.