When a girl under twelve he is able to grind.
In church, too, believe me, I don't like to see
A chap grope a girl while she sits on his knee;
Nor a lady whose visage is all over scabs,
Nor a young married lady troubled with crabs.
Nor I don't like to see, through it's really a lark,
A clergyman poking a girl in the park;
Nor a young lady, wishing to be thought discreet,
Looking in print-shops in Holywell Street,
I don't like to see, coming out of Cremorne,
A girl with her muslin much crumpled and torn;
Arm in arm with a fellow who's had the mishap,
To forget, when he shagged her, to button his flap.
Nor I don't like to see, though some think it a treat,
A young woman scratching her thing in the street;
And a boarding-school miss, with no sense in her pate,
Sit and chalk a man's tool on the back of her slate.
I don't like to see, in the bright face of the day,
A man stand and piss in the public highway;
Nor a Newfoundland dog, without any disguise,
Tied fast to a bitch not a quarter his size.
Nor I don't like to see, little sisters and brothers
Get playing at what they call fathers and mothers;
And I don't like to see, though at me you might scoff,
An old woman trying to toss herself off.
I don't like to see — it's a fact that I utter—
That nasty word — written up on a shutter:
And I don't like to see a man, drunk as an Earl,
Getting into a lamp-post thinking it's a girl.
I don't like to see, 'cause my feelings it shocks,
Two girls busy playing with each other's c—;
Nor I don't like to see, though it may be a whim,
A hole like a pit-mouth in place of a q—.
But I fear I'm encroaching too much on your time,
So I'll put an end to my quizzical rhyme;
Though with my way of taste you'll perhaps not agree,
I've told you the things I don't like to see.
A' THAT AND A' THAT.
Put butter in my Donald's brose,
For weel does Donald fa that;
I love my Donald's tartan hose,
His naked prick, and a' that.
For a' that and a' that,
And twice as mickle as a' that:
The lassie get a skelpit gnat,
But wan the day for a' that.
For Donald swore a solemn oath,
By his first hairy gravat,
That he would fight the battle there,
And fuck the lass and a' that.