Page:Songs of a Savoyard.djvu/143



Y boy, you may take it from me, That of all the afflictions accurst
 * With which a man's saddled
 * And hampered and addled,
 * A diffident nature's the worst.

Though clever as clever can be—
 * A Crichton of early romance—
 * You must stir it and stump it,
 * And blow your own trumpet,
 * Or, trust me, you haven't a chance.

Now take, for example, my case:
 * I've a bright intellectual brain—
 * In all London city
 * There's no one so witty—

I've thought so again and again.