Page:Carroll - Rhyme and Reason.djvu/200

184 I ask them what on earth they see
 * About him to admire?

They cry "He is so sleek and slim, It's quite a treat to look at him!"

They vanish in tobacco smoke,
 * Those visionary maids—

I feel a sharp and sudden poke
 * Between the shoulder-blades—

"Why, Brown, my boy! You're growing stout!" (I told you he would find me out!)

"My growth is not your business, Sir!"
 * "No more it is, my boy!

But if it's yours, as I infer,
 * Why, Brown, I give you joy!

A man, whose business prospers so, Is just the sort of man to know!

"It's hardly safe, though, talking here—
 * I'd best get out of reach:

For such a weight as yours, I fear,
 * Must shortly sink the beach!"—