"O Crikey, Bill!' she ses to me, she ses. "Look sharp,' ses she, "with them there sossiges. Yea; sharp with them there bags of mysteree! For lo!' she ses, "for lo! old pal,' ses she, "I'm blooming peckish, neither more nor less.' Was it not prime -- I leave you all to guess How prime! -- to have a jude in love's distress Come spooning round, and murmuring, balmilee, "O crikey, Bill!' For in such rorty wise doth Love express His blooming views, and asks for your address, And makes it right, and does the gay and free. I kissed her -- I did so! And her and me Was pals. And if that ain't good business, O crikey, Bill! (She ses, my Missus mine, ses she), Them flymy little bits of Blue. Upon our old meogginee, Now ain't they utterly too-too? They're equal to a Sunday Spree, Them flymy little bits of Blue! And booze the profits, Joe? Not me. Now ain't they utterly too-too? Joe, I'm consummate; and I see Them flymy little bits of Blue. Aesthetic-like, and limp, and free -- Now ain't they utterly too-too, Them flymy little bits of Blue? At Booty Shelly's poetry; I thinks that Swinburne at a screed Is really almost too-too fly; At Signor Vagna's harmony I likes a merry little flutter; I've had at Pater many a shy; In fact, my form's the Bloomin' Utter. And 'Enery Irving's gallery, To see old 'Amlick do a bleed, And Ellen Terry on the die. Or Franky's ghostes at hi-spy, And parties carried on a shutter. Them vulgar Coupeaus is my eye! In fact, my form's the Bloomin' Utter. I goes for 'Olman 'Unt like pie. It's equal to a friendly lead To see B. Jones's judes go by. Stanhope he makes me fit to cry. Whistler he makes me melt like butter. Strudwick he makes me flash my cly -- In fact, my form's the Bloomin' Utter. I talks as quite as I can splutter; I keeps a Dado on the sly; In fact, my form's the Bloomin' Utter! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MAN IN A ROOM by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS THE WISTFUL DAYS by ROBERT UNDERWOOD JOHNSON FROM THE ANTIQUE (1) by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI MOON-BRIGHT DREAMS by WILLIAM EDWARD ADAMS COTTON MILL FUNERAL by STEWART ATKINS BRUCE: JAMES OF DOUGLAS by JOHN BARBOUR |