Then Billy I lammed into 'em! They came as easy then
As little Polly's easiest lobs. Billy, they called hus "Men!"
"The next man in wos Bilkins" the reporter sez—that's me!—
"An' e's a young phernomenon, a infant W. G.
Who piled his quarter-century in fair Doctorial form!"—
Just fancy! But them scribbling chaps can pile it thick and warm.
I won that Bat 'owever with a score of twenty-five,
And Polly—in the Press-tent!—wos the 'appiest girl alive
While as for me! O Billy, when I drawed it from the baize,
Caught the whiff of the fresh willow!—well the world looked all a haze.