Page:Backblock Ballads and Later Verses (C.J. Dennis, 1918).djvu/127

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But still, although one likes to keep One's self a bit select, And not be, so to speak, too cheap, I'm broad in that respect. So oft, on sultry summer eves, I waive all diffidence, And chat across the wilted leaves That garb our garden fence.

But, oh, his talk is so absurd! His notions are so crude. Such drivel I have seldom heard; His mode of speech is rude. He mentions "stomach" in a bark You'd hear across the street. He lacks those little ways that mark A gentleman discreet.

Good books he seldom seems to read; In Art all taste he lacks. To Slopham's works he pays no heed; He scorns my almanacks— Framed almanacks! It's simply rot To hear the fellow prate About Velasquez, Villon, Scott, And such folk out of date.