And greasy dago tips a stave,
Or where the blue Atlantic wave,
While pallid shop-girls misbehave, doth cool the verdant Isle of Coney.
Forgive me if I criticise; I love you none the less, Priscilla,
And when the concert’s o’er, we’ll go where Huyler serves his best vanilla;
Talk as you will, I love you still; I’d live with you in flat or villa,
For never, never you’d commit
A split infinitive, and it
Is certain you would not omit in proper place the French cedilla.
Faulkner Armytage.