Dowds to guy and pooty ones to wheedle,
And to give all rival chaps the needle.
Crab your enemies,—I've got a many,
You can pot 'em proper for a penny.
My! Them walentines do 'it 'em 'ot.
Fust-rate fun; I always buy a lot.
Prigs complain they're spiteful,
Lor' wot stuff!
I can't ever get 'em strong enough.
Safe too; no one twigs your little spree,