Filled an old tin mug with flowers,

Decked the walls with dreadful pictures

From La Vie and from The Tatler.

“One thing more,” cried Tiadatha,

“One thing even now is lacking.

What about a little fireplace,

What about it, O my batman?”

Not a word spoke Woggs the batman,

Save to murmur, “Very good, sir,”

Went and pinched an empty oil drum,