No, by Jove, he wouldn't stand it; he can let the others pay; Standing treat is out of fashion, so he'll tap the milky way. When the red-hot stars come trickling he can cool them in his cup, And he'll tap it all the harder just to keep his pecker up.
He can hang about the Strand, too, if we give him lots of rope, And he'll lather Semolina with a sud of patent soap; Semolina, you remember, took her passage on a hoy, She was married to an anchorite and now she's got a boy.
Parish Councillors came round her, Dukes and Earls, and even Barts; With their spades they carved allotments on the table-land of Herts; But she faced them in her fury, and she asked the idiots how She could ever stomach acres after eating up her cow?
There, I think I've answered fairly every question on your list; All their meaning I have mastered, there's not one of them I've missed. I'm a sulphur-headed sunbeam, with a taste for pretty clocks, Which I always tell the time by when they strike upon the box.
Mrs. R. doubled up her Times for convenience of handling, and came upon this sentence where the paper folded:
"Individuals grown in tubs in greenhouses, in cool climates, have been known to live over a hundred years."
She paused. "Good Heavens!" she exclaimed; "it's as remarkable as the history of the old hermits who used to live perched up on the tops of pillars! But if ever these very clean individuals did live in 'tubs' for over a hundred years, what possible good could they have been to anybody, or even to themselves!" Turning the paper over Mrs. R. found that the letter was headed "American Aloes."