XXII



Methinks I'm tagged to join the Worry Club,
To chase the fleeting rhino through the gloom,
To bag the boodle, trap the wild mazume
And scratch for corn when Pansy hollers "Grub!"
They say I'll turn as sickly as a chub
When on the First, with dull and deadly boom,
The Rent comes round and walks into the room,
Remarking, "Peel or else file out, you scrub!"

But when your arms are full of girl and fluff
You hide your nerve behind a yard of grin;
You'd spit into a wild cat's face or bluff
A flock of dragons with a safety pin.
Life's a slow skate, but Love's the dopey gum
That puts a brewery horse in racing trim.