If you were only here, George,
I think--in fact, I know,
We'd get a girl to steer, George,
And take a boat and row;
And, striking mighty bubbles
From each propulsive blade,
Forget that life had troubles
At ninety in the shade.
We'd swing along together,
And cheerily defy
This toasting, roasting weather,
This sunshine of July.
Our feather might be dirty,
Our style might not be great;
But style for men of thirty
(And more) is out of date.
You'd note with high elation--
I think I see you now--
The beaded perspiration
That gathered on your brow.
Oh, by that brow impearled, George,
And by that zephyr wet,
I vow in all the world, George,
There's nothing like a "sweat."
To row as if it mattered,
Just think of what it means:
All cares and worries shattered
To silly smithereens.
To row on such a day, George,
And feel the sluggish brain,
Its cobwebs brushed away, George,
Clear for its work again!
But you at Henley linger,
While I am at Bourne-End.
You will not stir a finger
To come and join your friend.
This much at least is clear, George:
We cannot row a pair
So long as I am here, George,
And you remain up there.
"PERILS OF THE DEEP."--Unprotected Female (awaking old Gent, who is not very well). "Oh, mister, would you find the captain? I'm sure we're in danger! I've been watching the man at the wheel; he keeps turning it round first one way and then the other, and evidently doesn't know his own mind!!"
A HONEYMOON OUTING
Ernest (faintly). "Vera, darling, I do believe I'm the worst sailor on earth!"
Vera (ditto). "I wouldn't mind that so much, if I wasn't so bad on the water!"]
VERY CONSIDERATE
Steward. "Will either of you, gentlemen, dine on board? There's a capital hot dinner at three o'clock."
