Why the invariable factor in her seasoning
Always reminded me so forcibly of Beer.
Why, when my darling sighed, "The weekly books are ready, Ted,"
And I rejoined that we were thin while they were fat,—
Why, their increasing superfluities were credited
All to a manifestly unoffending cat.
Why, when a joint of whatsoever solid vastiness
Quitted the dining-room, it never came again;
Why my allusions to her culinary nastiness
Only encouraged her, it beats me to explain.