(She ses, my Missus mine, ses she)
Them flymy little bits of Blue.
Joe, just you kool ’em—nice and skew
Upon our old meogginee,
Now ain’t they utterly too-too?
They’re better than a pot’n’ a screw,
They’re equal to a Sunday spree,
Them flymy little bits of Blue!
Suppose I put ’em up the flue,
And booze the profits, Joe? Not me.