Why am I minus when it's up to me
To brace my Paris Pansy for a glide?
Once more my hoodoo's thrown the game and scored
A flock of zeros on my tally-board.



XV



Nixie! I'm not canned chicken till I'm cooked,
And hope still rooms in this pneumatic chest,
While something's doing underneath my vest
That makes me think I'm squiffier than I looked.
Mayhap Love knew my class when I was booked
As one shade speedier than second best
To knock the previous records galley west,
While short-end suckers on my bait were hooked.

Mayhap - I give it up - but this I know:
When I saw Mamie on the line today
She turned her happy searchlights on me so,
And grinned so like a living picture - say,
If a real lady threw you such a chunk,
Could n't she pack her Raglan in your trunk?



XVI