_She_ lapped from a brook, and her hoptics went wide as a cop on the watch,
When I hinted around rayther square, _I_ should like a small drop of cold
Scotch.
Well, well; I must cut this yarn short. We'd a turn at Moon Sports like all
round,
Wish I'd time to describe our Big Boar Hunt--DIANNER's pet pastime I found,
Can't say it was _mine_; bit too risky. Pigsticking in Ingy may suit
White Shikkarries or Princes, dear boy, but yer Boar is a nasty big brute.
Too much tusk for my taste! 'Owsomever DIANNER she speared him to rights,
And I dropped from the tree I'd shinned up when the boar had made tracks
for my tights.
"Bravo, Miss DIANNER!" I sez. "You are smart, for a gal, with that spear.
But didn't yer get jest a mossel alarmed--fur yer 'ARRY, my dear?"
Put it hamorous like, with a wink, snugging up to the lady, I did;
For she'd found a weak spot in my 'art, this cold classical gal, and no kid.
I'd been 'aving a pull at my flask, up that tree, and her pluck and blue eyes
Made me feel a bit spoony; in fact I was mashed. But, O wot a surprise!
"Alarmed? about _you_, Sir! And _why_?" sez DIANNER, with eyes all aflash,
I sez, "Don't yer remember Adonis, love, Venus's boar-'unting mash?
No wonder the lady felt fainty like; fear for a sweetheart, yer see.
Pages:
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85