Darling, you are the world's fresh ornament.
Ne'er a bigger bloom could a seeker find
Than this that you, dear fool, have on displayment.
The displacement of my gentle mind
To boudoir regions, gaudy cunning luxury,
Has my old self-substantial petrol in short supply.
To run this rearing gal, the new polished buxomry
Demands a man—the night's auto reply
To teenish hungers doesn't cut it.
Give me tender pullings of the world one way
And another, and I'll give right back.
That's the way to increase, to fight the lack.