I do not mind your telling me To watch that fellow in the flivver, Or crying "Heavens! Can't you see That traffic cop—I'm all aquiver!" I don't get mad when you assume I'm in a fog, or dozing, maybe, And won't give lots of space and room For any woman with a baby. When you assume I'll run amuck I keep my calm, as very few can, —But I can see a ten-ton truck Damn it, my dear—as well as you can. |