If lil ole Souttland is goin’ to keep her dome up in the golf department, an’ I tip my benny to her right now, she must put the kibosh on gin-hoisting an’ lay a stymie to every saloon.
Make feeble Ladies, in their Works, To fight like Termagants and Turks; To lay their native Arms aside, Their modesty, and ride a-stride; To run a-Tilt at Men, and wield Their naked tools in open field;
Paris, the City of Light, is a favorite target. While its landmark monuments now go dark earlier than usual, many store signs still stay lit all night.
All flown the flush of manhood's prime, And void of fire the restless glance, But still the years' mnemonic chime Spoke to his heart in soothesome rhyme, Of his home among the hills of France.
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