With towel, dressing-gown and soap,
Then most, the while I puff and blow,
My soul with song doth overflow
(Not unmelodiously, I hope).
The plashing of the H. and C.
Castalian stimulus affords;
I reach with ease an upper G
And, like the wild swan, carol free
The gamut of my vocal chords.
And when, my pure ablutions o'er,