She answered him, ‘Now, how much money
Can you afford, and how much honey?’
Poor B. looked rather brown at that,
For he was not a plutocrat.
‘My dear,’ he said, ‘it makes me sore,
That I should be so very poor.
I’ll start a bun shop, if you like,
And buy you a new motor-bike.’
She said, ‘I know where all the buns would go,
And motor biking’s much too low.’