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5i2 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF |
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Says the flow'ret, deep blushing, "Stan' off, if you
plase, Till you're better acquainted I'd have you not taize; It's quite onbecoming in maidens like me To be rumpled an' tossed by a flirt of a bee."
But the bee, an "ould playboy," desayver and wag, Wouldn't budge till he'd get something into his bag; He'd take no denial, he'd give her a hug, An' lighten her sowl with a swig from her jug.
He kissed her, he teased her, he rumpl'd her, too, An' from her soft lips suck'd the honey'd love dew, Then left the tossed fiow'ret as dry as a dyke, An' singing "Bum boozle" set off for his bike.
Ye flowers that in sheenongs an' crinolynes shine, Sure the lesson that Moore gives is no match for mine, Since you'll surely take care if you're bidden by me To keep your lips-dew from the bill of the bee. |
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