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This most amiable youngster
Can't be held in too much reverence;
Frequently he stands me oysters,
With liqueurs or hock for preference.
Clad in trim-cut coat and trousers,
With a neck-tie gay as Iris,
Each forenoon he waits upon me,
Just to make polite inquiries.
Of my fame, my grace and humour,
He goes rambling on for ever;
Swears, to aid and do me service
Is his duty, his endeavour.
And of evenings, to the ladies,
With a face of inspiration,
He recites my deathless poems
With appropriate declamation.
Oh! to light on such a being
Is indeed immensely cheering,
In these days when worthy people
More and more are disappearing.
Can't be held in too much reverence;
Frequently he stands me oysters,
With liqueurs or hock for preference.
Clad in trim-cut coat and trousers,
With a neck-tie gay as Iris,
Each forenoon he waits upon me,
Just to make polite inquiries.
Of my fame, my grace and humour,
He goes rambling on for ever;
Swears, to aid and do me service
Is his duty, his endeavour.
And of evenings, to the ladies,
With a face of inspiration,
He recites my deathless poems
With appropriate declamation.
Oh! to light on such a being
Is indeed immensely cheering,
In these days when worthy people
More and more are disappearing.
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