Pearl-headed pins kept his tie in place.
And his shirt front's wealth of whiteness
Made yet more sallow his pasty face,
More dazzling his chest-stud's brightness.
No thought worth thinking was in his breast,
Nor on his dull brain was flashing,
But he sat encased in his board-like vest,
Equipped for the evening's mashing.
But few and short were the leers he gave
At the chorus-girls singing before him;