(Inscribed to an Intense Poet)
"O CRIKEY Bill!" she ses to me, she ses,
"Look sharp," ses she, "with them there sossiges.
Yea! sharp with them there bags of mysteree!
For lo!" she ses, "for lo! old pal," ses she,
"I'm blooming peckish, neither more or less."
Was it not prime—I leave you all to guess
How prime—to have a Jude in love's distress
Come spooning round, and murmuring balmilee,
"O crikey, Bill!"