Here's to the girl—
With dash and whirl—
Who rides about in an auto;
Here's to the man
Who'll bridle her
To ride about as she "ought to."
Here's to love, the only fire against which there is no insurance.
Here's to the lasses we've loved, my lad,
Here's to the lips we've pressed;
For of kisses and lasses
Like liquor in glasses,
The last is always the best.
To Woman—When she is neither too young to be wise, nor too old to be careful.—Minnie Thomas Antrim.
To Woman—A paradox who puzzles when she pleases and pleases when she puzzles.—Minnie Thomas Antrim.