An Enjimmyun is not to be found in the purlieus of Chancery Lane.
And that Primrose 'Ill isn't a Latmos. The things you call gloves I don't wear,
Only buskins. But don't you be rude, or the fate of Actæon you'll share."
I wosn't quite fly to her patter, but "mortal" might jest 'ave bin "cub,"
From the high-perlite way she pernounced it, and plainly DIANNER meant "snub."
Struck me moony, her manner, did CHARLIE, she hypnertised me with her looks,
And the next thing I knowed I was padding the 'oof in a region of spooks.
Spooks, is bogies and ghostesses, CHARLIE, according to latter-day chat,—
And the place where DIANNER conveyed, me was spooky, and spectral at that.
"Where are we, Miss, if I may arsk?" I sez, orfully 'umbl for me.