Dubbed you most diabolical of ragers,
A rampant hooligan, a fetid tough,
A thing without respect for sergeant-majors—
That is to say, hot stuff.
Full many a fair young thing I've seen displaying
A sympathetic pallor on her cheek
And wonder in her eye, when I've been saying
How almost every day in Salonique
You jazzed with me on brinks of precipices;
But when I talk to-day they cannot fail