And sees male-looking things by the dozen: but then they turned out to be spooks.
There was TOLSTOI the Rooshian romancer, a grim-looking son of a gun,
Welting into young Cupid like scissors, and wallopping Hymen like fun.
Old Hymen looked 'orrified rayther; but as for young Arrers-and-'Arts,
He turned up his nose at the old 'un, whilst all the gay donas and tarts,
Not to mention the matronly mivvies, were arter the boy with the bow,
Plainly looking on TOLSTOI and IBSEN as crackpots, and not in the know.
"Queer paper, my dear Miss DIANNER," sez I, "wot do you think?" Sez she,
"A mere Vision of Vanities, mortal, of no speshal interest to me.