(Yet even children fond of singing
   Will pay off scores,
And I to-day at least am stringing
   Not beads but bores.)

And now the sands were left behind,
   The Club-house past. 
I wondered, Can I hope to find
   Escape at last,

Or must I take him home to tea,
   And bear his chatter
Until the last train to Dundee
   Shall solve the matter?

 But while I shuddered at the thought
   And planned resistance,
My conquering Alexander caught
   Sight in the distance

Of two young ladies, one of whom
   Is his ambition;
And so, with somewhat heightened bloom,
   He asked permission

To say good-bye to me and follow. 
   I freely gave it,
And wished him all success. Apollo
   Sic me servavit.

 A Bunch of TRIOLETS

TO —–­

You like the trifling triolet: 
   Well, here are three or four. 
Unless your likings I forget,
You like the trifling triolet. 
Against my conscience I abet
   A taste which I deplore;
You like the trifling triolet: 
   Well, here are three or four.

 Have you ever met with a pretty girl
   Walking along the street,
With a nice new dress and her hair in curl? 
Have you ever met with a pretty girl,
When her hat blew off and the wind with a whirl
   Wafted it right to your feet? 
Have you ever met with a pretty girl
   Walking along the street?

I ran into a lady’s arms,
   Turning a corner yesterday. 
To my confusion, her alarms,
I ran into a lady’s arms. 
So close a vision of her charms
   Left me without a word to say. 
I ran into a lady’s arms,
   Turning a corner yesterday.

 How many maids you love,
   How many maids love you! 
Your conscious blushes prove
How many maids you love. 
Each trusts you like a dove,
   But would she, if she knew
How many maids you love,
   How many maids love you?

 A ballad of refreshment

The lady stood at the station bar,
   (Three currants in a bun)
And oh she was proud, as ladies are. 
   (And the bun was baked a week ago.)

For a weekly wage she was standing there,
   (Three currants in a bun)
With a prominent bust and light gold hair. 
   (And the bun was baked a week ago.)

The express came in at half-past two,
   (Three currants in a bun)
And there lighted a man in the navy blue. 
   (And the bun was baked a week ago.)

 A stout sea-captain he was, I ween. 
   (Three currants in a bun)
Much travel had made him very keen. 
   (And the bun was baked a week ago.)

A sober man and steady was he. 
   (Three currants in a bun)
He called not for brandy, but called for tea. 
   (And the bun was baked a week ago.)