THE MERRY MUSE.
THE BUTCHER IN LOVE. Dear heart, I’m in an awful stow How to re-veal my love for you; I’m such a mutton-head, i fear, I feel so sheepish when you’re near. I know it’s only cow-ardice That makes these lamentations rise. I dread a cut-let me explain, A single roast would give me pain ; I should not like to get the hooks, And dare not steak my hopes to looks I never sau-sage eyes as thine, If you would butcher your hand in mine, And liver round me every day, We’d seek some ham-lot far away; We’d meat life’s frown with love’s caress And cleaver road to happiness. PREPARED FOR “MORE.” She was a pretty shopgirl, and one day the waisome miss Was waiting on a youth, when lo! lie stole from her a kiss. She soundly scolded him, of course, hut as he turned away She shyly looked at him and asked: “Will that be all today?”
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/STEP19140411.2.53
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Stratford Evening Post, Volume XXXVIII, Issue 93, 11 April 1914, Page 7
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161THE MERRY MUSE. Stratford Evening Post, Volume XXXVIII, Issue 93, 11 April 1914, Page 7
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