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    In the King's English
    by Breton Braley

    Er--Dear, and all of that sort of rot,
        I'm fairly hipped about you.
    I mean to say that though I've got
        Along, so far, without you,
    You've bowled me over, knocked me flat,
        The good old heart is skipping.
    In fact I think you'll gather that
        I think you're simply ripping!

    Your form, your eyes, your lips, your hair
        Are-er-top hole. Yes, quite so.
    I mean to say you have an air
        That's bally well all right; so
    If you should care for me, old thing,
        I'd chuck the melancholy,
    And like some silly bird I'd sing
        And be distinctly jolly.

    What say? Let's toddle up the aisle
        And face the good old altar.
    I'm somewhat on the faithful style
        That doesn't funk or falter.
    I have the oof to pay the rent
        For some--er--sylvan cot;
    Right ho? Good egg. We'll be content
        In jolly bliss. Eh, what?

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