Superb the act, a first class show.

Be calm my boy, give whisky credit.

She may change, you never know?

A dainty hand pulls on the glove,

upon the lips, a smile she switch,

from ugly twist, to shape of love.

She fools them all: cunning witch!

A story told, so often told.

I beg thee, grovel, praise the dung!

Help the dog of all he's bold.

I say, for dogs, let bells be rung.