Dear Charlie,
A 'Appy New Year to yer! That's the straight tip for to-day,
So I'm bound to be in it, old chip, though things don't look remarkable gay.
I inclose you a card—a correct one, I 'ope, though it strikes one as queer
That such picters is thought apprypo this perticular time of the year.
You'll observe there's a hangel in muslin a twisting 'erself all awry,
With some plums, happle-blossoms, and marigolds, backed by a dab o' blue sky.
Dekkyrative it's called, so the mivvy informed me who nobbled my tanner;
I call it a little bit mixed, like the art on a Odd-Fellow's banner.
But, bless you, it's all of a piece, Charlie—life is so muddled with rot