If you were only here, George,
I think--in fact, I know,
We'd get a girl to steer, George,
And take a boat and row;
And, striking mighty bubbles
From each propulsive blade,
Forget that life had troubles
At ninety in the shade.
We'd swing along together,
And cheerily defy
This toasting, roasting weather,
This sunshine of July.
Our feather might be dirty,
Our style might not be great;
But style for men of thirty
(And more) is out of date.
You'd note with high elation--
I think I see you now--
The beaded perspiration
That gathered on your brow.
Oh, by that brow impearled, George,
And by that zephyr wet,
I vow in all the world, George,
There's nothing like a "sweat."
To row as if it mattered,
Just think of what it means:
All cares and worries shattered
To silly smithereens.
To row on such a day, George,
And feel the sluggish brain,
Its cobwebs brushed away, George,
Clear for its work again!
But you at Henley linger,
While I am at Bourne-End.
You will not stir a finger
To come and join your friend.
This much at least is clear, George:
We cannot row a pair
So long as I am here, George,
And you remain up there.
* * * * *
"PERILS OF THE DEEP."--_Unprotected Female_ (_awaking old Gent, who is
not very well_). "Oh, mister, would you find the captain? I'm sure we're
in danger! I've been watching the man at the wheel; he keeps turning it
round first one way and then the other, and evidently doesn't know his
own mind!!"
* * * * *
[Illustration: A HONEYMOON OUTING
_Ernest_ (_faintly_). "Vera, darling, I do believe I'm the worst sailor
on earth!"
_Vera_ (_ditto_). "I wouldn't mind _that_ so much, if _I_ wasn't so bad
on the water!"]
* * * * *
[Illustration: VERY CONSIDERATE
_Steward._ "Will either of you, gentlemen, dine on board? There's a
capital hot dinner at three o'clock."]
* * * * *