"I could die dancing, Danny!" murmurs she.
(I gambolled on her corns, she hollered, "Don't!")
"I could die dancing also" (this from me),"
"But if you'll pass me up, I guess I won't."
Just then some lemon-sport observed my glide
And warbled, "Slide, you frozen chicken, slide!"
XVIII
I next sprung Pansy for a four-bit feed -
It was a giddy tax, but what care I?
We shot the bill-of-fare from soup to pie
And lemonade (that cost an extra seed).
"You're the cute plunge," says Pans', and I agreed
That at a spenderfest I wasn't shy, -
That when it came to rolling nickels by,
Willie the Cowboy was a perfect bleed.
She said that Thomas Lawson on a lark
Would faint away to see the way I blew;
She said I'd be the whizz in Central Park,
And Ready Cash to me seemed very few.
I asked her, Did she need a Valentine?
And she responded, "You're the pink for mine!"
XIX
We took the iron-clad wave-tub home at ten,
And as we sat conversing on the deck
A certain Hester-street spaghetti-neck
Pipes through the darkness, "Who's yer ladyfren'?"
There might have been a hoe-down there and then
(That war-ship never came so near a wreck);
The dog-eye boy got just as pale as heck
And made a duck behind the trenches, when -
Pansy boiled up and clamped me by a flip.
"Nixie the kindergarten!" murmurs she.
"Gents," I replied out loud, "Get off the ship
And walk, or else nail down that repartee.
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