Now that sweet Teddie Thomson’s gone!
He was a darling little man,
But as dark as a frying pan.
(My revenge for the comparison of my Greek
adorer to a candle made of tallow.)
Just remember, at Mary’s party,
You nearly fainted, my hearty,
Then Teddie with a haggard face,
Bustled near you with a great deal of grace.
He ran for water, for Eau-de-Cologne,
And went right smartly through his besogne