I wouldn’t pray ’neath Chamberlainic steeple,
If I were you.
L. S. Go, if you will; my faith is not so flabby;
Cowards in midlands happily are few.
Stay! I would take that little trick from Labby—
If I were you.
W. E. G. Done! I remain—Brummagem to pound well.
Leave it till autumn—now, of course, you’re true?
Wouldn’t smash the party (surely doesn’t sound well)
If I were you.