But I didn't quite relish his smile, nor his rummy remarks on my nose.
When a tall gurl as pooty as paint, and with cheeks like a blush—rose in bloom,
'As 'er lamps all a-larf on yer face, and a giggle goes round the whole room,
'Tisn't nice to sit square on a chair, with a feller a-sharpening 'is wit
On your nob, and a rumpling your 'air till it's like a birch-broom in a fit!
One caper we 'ad, on the lawn, wos a spree and no error, old man.
They call it a "Soap-Bubble Tournyment." Soapsuds, a pipe, and a fan,
Four six—foot posts stuck in the ground with a tape run around—them's the "props,"
And lawn-tennis ain't in it for larks. Oh, the ladies did larf, though tip-tops!
Bit sniffy fust off. "Oh!" sez they, "wot a most hintellectual game!"