Page:Songs of a Savoyard.djvu/80

76 If he's made the best use of his time, His twig he'll so carefully lime
 * That every bird
 * Will come down at his word,

Whatever its plumage and clime. He must learn that the thrill of a touch May mean little, or nothing, or much;
 * It's an instrument rare,
 * To be handled with care,

And ought to be treated as such.
 * It is purely a matter of skill,
 * Which all may attain if they will:
 * But every Jack,
 * He must study the knack
 * If he wants to make sure of his Jill!

Then a glance may be timid or free; It will vary in mighty degree,
 * From an impudent stare
 * To a look of despair

That no maid without pity can see. And a glance of despair is no guide— It may have its ridiculous side;
 * It may draw you a tear
 * Or a box on the ear;

You can never be sure till you've tried
 * It is purely a matter of skill,
 * Which all may attain if they will:
 * But every Jack
 * He must study the knack
 * If he wants to make sure of his Jill!