Written by
Robert William Service |
You've heard of Violet de Vere, strip-teaser of renown,
Whose sitting-base out-faired the face of any girl in town;
Well, she was haled before the Bench for breachin' of the Peace,
Which signifies araisin' Cain, an' beatin' up the police.
So there she stood before the Court of ruddy Judge McGraw
Whom folks called Old Necessity, because he knew no law.
Aye, crackin' in a silken gown, an' sheddin' of a tear,
Ashine wi' gold an' precious stones sat Violet de Vere.
Old Judge McGraw looked dourly down an' stroked his silver beard.
Says he: "Although the Sheriff's bruised, the lady should be heared.
What can you say in your defence? We'll give you a square deal.
"
"I jest forget," said Violet.
"Maybe it was my heel.
I always want to kick the gong when I am feelin' gay;
It's most unfortunate, I guess, his face was in the way.
"
Then scratchin' of his snowy pow the Judge looked down severe,
Where bright wi' paint like plaster saint sat Violet de Vere.
Says he: "I'm going to impose a twenty dollar fine.
"
Says Violet: "Your Honour, to your judgement I resign.
I realize I should not my agility reveal:
Next time I'll kick the Sheriff with my toe and not my heel.
I'm grateful to the Court because I'm not put in the clink;
There's twenty plunks to pay my fine,--but now I come to think:
Judge, darlin', you've been owin' me five bucks for near a year:
Take fifteen,--there! We'll call it square," said Violet de Vere.
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Written by
Robert William Service |
My precious grand-child, aged two,
Is eager to unlace one shoe,
And then the other;
Her cotton socks she'll deftly doff
Despite the mild reproaches of
Her mother.
Around the house she loves to fare,
And with her rosy tootsies bare,
Pit-pat the floor;
And though remonstrances we make
She presently decides to take
Off something more.
Her pinafore she next unties,
And then before we realise,
Her dress drops down;
Her panties and her brassiere,
Her chemise and her underwear
Are round her strown.
And now she dances all about,
As naked as a new-caught trout,
With impish glee;
And though she's beautiful like that,
(A cherubim, but not so fat),
Quite shocked are we.
And so we dread with dim dismay
Some day she may her charms display
In skimpy wear;
Aye, even in a gee-string she
May frolic on the stage of the
Folies-Bèrgere
But e'er she does, I hope she'll read
This worldly wise and warning screed,
That to conceal,
Unto the ordinary man
Is often more alluring than
To ALL reveal.
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