The nineteenth century dudelet’s pet;
With its dainty white overcoat,
Prithee, now, make a note,
How your affections entangled get.
The Machiavelian power I sing,
Of the stealthy, insidious, treacherous thing.
What odours unpleasant our nostrils fret!
That subtle aroma we ne’er forget.
But wherefore complain of it?
Spite of the pain of it,