Was my gushing innocent queen of pearls;
If she wasn't a girl of a thousand girls.
She was one of forty-seven!
I see the ghost of my first cigar—
Of the thence-arising family jar—
Of my maiden brief (I was at the Bar),
When I called the judge "Your wushup"!
Of reckless days and reckless nights,
With wrenched-off knockers, extinguished lights,
Unholy songs, and tipsy fights,