And all third persons who on spoiling tête-à-têtes insist—
They'd none of 'em be missed—they'd none of 'em be missed!
There's the banjo serenader, and the others of his race,
And the piano organist—I've got him on the list!
And the people who eat peppermint and puff it in your face,
They never would be missed—they never would be missed!
Then the idiot who praises, with enthusiastic tone,
All centuries but this, and every country but his own;
And the lady from the provinces, who dresses like a guy,