If you were Queen of Pleasure,
And I were King Champagne,
We’d hunt the bard together,
Pluck out his inked goose-feather,
And leave him “feet” and “measure,”
But muddle his poor brain—
If you were Queen of Pleasure,
And I were King Champagne.
From Lunatic Lyrics, by Alfred Greenland, Junior. London, Tinsley Brothers. 1882.