The Captain paused at the Dug-out door;
In his breathless way, he observed, “Oh, Lor’,”
What a Pearl of a Girl, you chaps; my word,
I’d buy her a quart of the best, a bird,
A box at the Gaiety – Lor’, what fun.
I’d do the thing as it should be done;
Supper at Murray’s, a perfect floor.
And what could a fellow wish for more?
Sensuous music, a dreamy band,
A delicate pressure of the hand;
Then after a last liqueur or so
A whispered word in the Hail, what, ho!
I’d drive her home in the daylight drab
And trust to luck in the taxi-cab.