Me and Loo was as cosy as cousins, tucked up in a nook on the shore.
Gives yer 'oliday outing a flaviour, the feminine element do,
Although, ontry noo, dear old pal, it's a tidy stiff drain on yer "screw."
'Owsomever, flare up and blow "exes" is always my motter, yer see;
And I never minds blueing the pieces purwided I gets a good spree;
Wich is jest wot I'm 'aving at present. You'll say, at this pint, I expect,
"'Arry's doing the Toff as per usual." To which, mate, I answers, "Ker-rect!"
Socierty's right, my dear Charlie,—Socierty always is right,—
Gladstone's gab about "masses and classes" is all tommy rot and sour spite.
There is only one class worth consid'rin', and that is the reglar fust-class;