SHE.
The hateful man! 'Twould vex a saint!
Around my pretty, cherished book,
The odor vile, the noisome taint
Of horrid, stale tobacco-smoke
Yet lingers!
The hateful man, my book to spoil!
Patrick, the tongs—lest I should soil
My fingers!
The hateful man! 'Twould vex a saint!
Around my pretty, cherished book,
The odor vile, the noisome taint
Of horrid, stale tobacco-smoke
Yet lingers!
The hateful man, my book to spoil!
Patrick, the tongs—lest I should soil
My fingers!