Page:Ballads of a Bohemian.djvu/52

50 Down her, clutch her by the hair, Smear the vitriol on her face.

(Ah! Imagination rare) See… he takes his hat to go; Now he’s level with her chair; Now she rises up to throw…. ''God! and she has done it too… Oh, those screams; those hideous screams! I imagined and… It’s true: How his face will haunt my dreams!

What a sight! It makes me sick. Seems I am to blame somehow. Garçon, fetch a brandy quick… There! I’m feeling better now. Let’s collaborate, we two, You the Mummer, I the Bard; Oh, what ripping stuff we’ll do, Sitting on the Boulevard!