VIII

Forsooth that was a passing lusty clout

That chopped me off with Pansy - do n't you fret!

There's quite a blaze inside my garret yet,

And all the Dipper Corps can n't put it out.

Gilly the Grip's a pretty ricky tout -

Under the old rag-rug for him, you bet,

When I put on my Navajo and get

One license to unloose my soul and shout.

Perhaps he thinks I'm old Molasses Freight

Sidetracked at Pokey Pond and filled with prunes

Waiting for Congress to appropriate

The nuggets draped around me in festoons.

Wait till I ticket Pansy, then I guess

Slow Freight will switch to Honeymoon Express!