(Ungrateful being.)
I liked Jeffrey pretty well,
Because he was such a swell,
I liked Skinner very much too,
Somebody else did, don’t you know who?
Oh, Ettie, you were an awful flirt,
The idea of my being so pert!
But it’s the truth, dear, isn’t it, dove,
You must confess it as a love.
Poor old girl, how you must feel forlorn,