Yet fair golden locks still encircle your head,
Now, how do you do that, I pray?”
“The locks of my youth,” Lady William replied,
“Were a carroty ginger they said;
But by wise application of Mexican Balm,
I attained to this delicate shade.”
“You are old, Lady William,” the débutante cried,
“And all the folks call you a guy:
Yet the bloom on your cheek far outrivals my own,
Now tell me the dodge or I die.”