Did some one ask if I am on the job?
I sure am to the pay-roll with my lay,
A hot tabasco-poultice which will stay
Close to the ribs and answer throb-to-throb.
Here have I chewed my Music from the cob
And followed Passion from the get-away
Past the big Grand Stand where the Pousse-Café
Christens my Muse as Jennie-on-the-Daub.
Hark ye, all marks who break the Pure Fool Law,
How I, the Windy Wonder of the Age,
Have fought the Tender Passion to a draw
And got my mug upon the Sporting Page,
Since Love and I collided at the curve
And left me with a Dislocated Nerve.
I
Am I in bad? upon the tick of nine
Today the Pansy got aboard my ship
And sprung the Trans-Suburban for a trip.
Say, she's the shapely ticket pretty fine!
Next to her pattern Anna Held looks shine
And Lilly Russell doesn't know the grip.
But oh! she's got a deep ingrowing tip
That she must shy at honks like yours and mine.
I says to her, "Fare, please!" out loud like that,
But she pipes, "Fade, Bill, fade! you pinched my fare."
That get-back tripped your Oswald to the mat,
And yet I yelled, "Cough up here, Golden Hair!"
Eh, what? I got the zing from Pansy's orb
Which says, "Dry out now, Shorty,--please absorb!"