Page:The Bab Ballads.djvu/203

Rh "Come, nonsense!" said good ,
 * So this is Turkish coyness, is it?

You must contrive to fight it down—
 * Come, come, sir, please to be explicit."



The Turk he shyly bit his thumb,
 * And coyly blushed like one half-witted,

"The pain is in my little tum"
 * He, whispering, at length admitted.

"Then take you this, and take you that—
 * Your blood flows sluggish in its channel—

You must get rid of all this fat,
 * And wear my medicated flannel.