thinks themselves no end of nobs.
But Primrose is pleasant and modest, you
know where the boy's to be found,
And there's nothing he won't turn his hand
to, to make things agreeable all round.
Heigho! How I wish——But no matter!
Young Primrose, he knows such a lot,
And he seems to be trusted by all, which
some of us, I fear,—well, are not.
There is William, the butler, and John, now;