We may—it won't matter a bit.
Our talk of old times shall be joyous and bright,
Undisturbed we will gossip like billy-o,
And I shan't break away to bid Brown a good night;
'Twould savour of needless punctilio.
Dear Tom, since I love you the best of them all,
Call round here whenever you care,
And, if you should run against Brown in the hall,
Just give him an insolent stare.
And when, from rusticity taking a rest,