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The Evening News, 20 Jan 1906 Into her presence he gaily pranced, With a Samson tread on the earth he trod, And she was a tulip just unfurled, Her body was one of which poets dreamed, Her hair was haughty, her spirit proud, "Pity," he said, "my sad condition; "Ask me to do some desperate deed, "Sir," said the maiden, "pray be seated; "And I trust that a timely lubrication As a well-made mixture she indicated, "Oh, come," said he, "in this soft spring weather, But she slipped his clutch with a gesture mocking, "You haven’t the gear at my pace to last; "And I think that in me you have missed your mission; With a sidelong motion he left the place; He drove his car to the cliffs of Dover, And the stormy Petrol her rest is taking, |