Hi, Love, what would you be at?'
No word would he say,
But he flew on his way,
For the little boy's busy, and how could he stay?

Little boy Love drew a shaft just for sport
At the soberest club in Pall Mall;
He winged an old veteran drinking his port,
And down that old veteran fell.
'Hey, Love, you mustn't do that!
Hi, Love, what would you be at?
This cannot be right!
It's ludicrous quite!'
But it's no use to argue, for Love's out of sight.

A sad-faced young clerk in a cell all apart
Was planning a celibate vow;
But the boy's random arrow has sunk in his heart,
And the cell is an empty one now.
'Hey, Love, you mustn't do that!
Hi, Love, what would you be at?
He is not for you,
He has duties to do.'
'But I AM his duty,' quoth Love as he flew.

The king sought a bride, and the nation had hoped
For a queen without rival or peer.
But the little boy shot, and the king has eloped
With Miss No-one on Nothing a year.
'Hey, Love, you couldn't mean that!