O Seraphine!
But after dinner as you doze each e'en,
From your disjointed mutterings I glean
Your mind is running on a crinoline,
O Seraphine!
Oh, let me not appear to speak with spleen—
Yet pause!—nor go to Madame Antonine
To get yourself a—you know what I mean,
O Seraphine!
For if that huge and hideous machine