  FROM Marble Arch to Holland Park, They liked his gentle ways, A youth who roused no rude remark, But very often praise. When paying calls at afternoon A careful way he picked; He let the cat ungallÈd croon, The poodle drowse unkicked. He never screamed his hostess down, Or raised a threatening arm, When dining with his friends in town: They marvelled at his charm. When chatting with another guest A pleasant word he’d pass, Instead of growling, “Perfect pest!” Or, “You’re a silly ass!” If in the tango’s mazy whirl A vagrant flounce he tore, He suavely smiled, “My fault, dear girl,” And never, “What a bore! When at the club the waiter gave Him change for half-a-crown, He did not dance, or rant, or rave, And rarely knocked him down. His life was calm and halcyon, His manners so exact, His friends proclaimed, “Dear Algernon Has got such perfect tact.” |
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