And you can't be fur out in his portrait as long as you slop on the black.
But I'm quite another guess sort; penny plain, tuppence coloured, yer see,
May do all very well for the ruck; but they'll find it won't arnser for me!
I'm a daisy, dear boy, and no 'eeltaps! I wish the St. James's young man
Could drop into my diggings permiskus; he's welcome whenever he can;
For he isn't no J., that's a moral; I don't bear no malice; no fear!
But I'd open 'is hoptics a mossel concernin' my style and my spere.
The essence of 'Arry, he sez, is high sperrits. That ain't so fur out.
I'm "Fiz," not four 'arf, my dear feller. Flare-up is my motter, no doubt.
Carn't set in a corner canoodling, and do the Q. T. day and night.