(Who whistled of Monte Carlo not wisely, but too well.)
Sweet youth! I wonder if you'll feel much pain
To know that that sweet soul-inspiring strain
You whistle at so wonderful a rate
Is now in point of fact quite out of date.
Down in the country pr'aps you hardly know
At what a pace these street-songs come and go.
At present you're a day behind the fair,
And want (as I myself) a change of air.
You should protest you're being driven crazy