Yer Labour, with a capital L, looks mighty fine in print, Sam,
But work with a small w—ah! I see yer takes the 'int, Sam."
That shut him up, the lolloper! He know'd I'd took his measure,
And squelching 'umbugs always do give me pertikler pleasure.
Jones sorter set 'is cap at me; I earn good money I do;
But love as follows L.S.D. 's all fol-der-riddle-dido!
"Bashing a knobstick's ripping fun, no doubt—for them as bashes;
But this here new petroleum game won't work." Here Jones's lashes—
They're stubby, ginger, sly-fox ones—got kinder tangle-twinkle.
I 'ad my eye on 'im, the worm, while working out my winkle.