WORDS FOR MUSIC. The flowers that bloom in the pot, tra-la, Have the bulge on the flowers of Spring, For whether its cold or its hot, tra-la, They’re placed in temperate spot, tra-la, And in this have a very soft thing; So they don’t care a jot If it freezes or not, For they feel pretty certain that they have the pot, Tra-la-la la-la, tra-la-la-la-la. Oh, theirs is a fortunate lot. _Rare Bits._ February 5, 1887. ―――― THE SPRING CLEANING. The flowers that bloom in the spring, tra-la, You buy for the girl you adore, For a beautiful smile they bring, tra-la, And cause her your praises to sing, tra-la, Till you wish that you’d only bought more, And that’s what we mean when we say that a thing Is as welcome as flowers that bloom in the Spring. The blushes that bloom on her cheek, tra la, Are painted the men to deceive; If you doubt, just notice this week, tra la, When her curls on your arm a rest seek, tra la, How the blushes will soil your coat-sleeve. And that’s what we mean when we angrily speak: A brush for the blushes that bloom on her cheek. The flour that blooms in the spring, tra la, We find in confectioner’s cakes The children unto ’em will cling, tra la, Though they’re spongy and tough as a string, tra la, And simply are leathery fakes! And that’s why we’re sad when they pass us a thing, Made out of the flour that blooms in the spring. The houses we clean in the spring, tra la, Give a blow to all social sunshine, And we profanely say as we sing, tra la, That we’d like to be hanged on a _string_, tra la, But we find that it’s useless _to whine_. And this is the refrain that we dolefully sing, Oh, bother the houses we clean in the spring. THE TUNEFUL LIAR. _Quips_ (Liverpool.) March 4, 1887. ―――― VERSES ACCIDENTALLY OMITTED AT THE SAVOY THEATRE.