Had basked in her beautiful gaze,
And burnt to dismember MILOR,
HE LOVED DE LA SAUCE MAYONNAISE.

He said to her, "Mechante THERESE,
Avec desespoir tu m'accables.
Penses-tu, DE LA SAUCE MAYONNAISE,
Ses intentions sont honorables?

"Flirtez toujours, ma belle, si tu oses--
Je me vengerai ainsi, ma chere,
Je lui dirai de quoi l'on compose
Vol au vent a la Financiere!"

LORD LARDY knew nothing of this--
The waiter's devotion ignored,
But he gazed on the beautiful miss,
And never seemed weary or bored.

The waiter would screw up his nerve,
His fingers he'd snap and he'd dance--
And LORD LARDY would smile and observe,
"How strange are the customs of France!"

Well, after delaying a space,
His tradesmen no longer would wait:
Returning to England apace,
He yielded himself to his fate.

LORD LARDY espoused, with a groan,