Young Frank he frowneth grimly,
And thou turn'st haughty pale.
'Tis not the taint of "City,"
For here be scores who sport
Their Mayfair manners pretty
In Cop-the-Needle Court.
Ah, chill me not so coolly,
A Crœsus though I be—
The one who loveth truly
I swear is I—(or "me"?)