Page:Ballads of a Bohemian.djvu/121

Rh For I’m sure that I know true love at last, And She is the fairest girl of all.

“Sow your wild oats in your youth,” so we’re always told; But I say with deeper sooth: “Sow them when you’re old.” I’ll be wise till I’m about seventy or so: Then, by Gad! I’ll blossom out as an ancient beau.

I’ll assume a dashing air, laugh with loud Ha! ha!… How my grandchildren will stare at their grand-papa! Their perfection aurioled I will scandalize: Won’t I be a hoary old sinner in their eyes!

Watch me, how I’ll learn to chaff barmaids in a bar; Scotches daily, gayly quaff, puff a fierce cigar. I will haunt the Tango teas, at the stage-door stand; Wait for Dolly Dimpleknees, bouquet in my hand.

Then at seventy I’ll take flutters at roulette; While at eighty hope I’ll make good at poker yet; And in fashionable togs to the races go, Gayest of the gay old dogs, ninety years or so.

“Sow your wild oats while you’re young,” that’s what you are told;