You pardon? Well, then, to take up the thread Of my story--the old folks were snoring in bed; In the western horizon the moon kept her course, The talkers were drowsy, the singers were hoarse, When Lulu was strolling the cool walks among While her beau held her ear as she didn’t her tongue. Sweet Venus and Cupid o’er the wide earth held reign And the pennons streamed gay o’er their Castles in Spain. O Lulu, dear Lulu! magnificent belle-- Whose name is a charm and whose presence a spell, Bright star ever shining in Memory’s stream, You were gowned on that night in the very extreme Of fashion, indeed quite a crinoline belle, You spread yourself so, and you made such a swell, Your dress circle being made after the pattern Of the rings that the telescope shows around Saturn, Not whalebone or cordage, but Carnegie’s best steel, As when you dance with her next time you can feel. Now, I do not blame Lulu for her fondness for dress It’s a passion some people find hard to repress, And take this excuse, dear reader, I beg; Her grandma had left her a very fine leg- Acy, so having abundance of means, And being quite young--indeed still in her teens-- She dressed herself up in the climax of style, “A miss”--in circumference--“as good as a mile.” Well, Lulu was chatting away with her beau Of dances and courtships, and quarrels and so, When all of a sudden she made a full stop In her gay tête-a-tête, and screamed at the top Of her voice, till each sleepy-eyed maid in the hall Sprang quick to her feet at the terrible squall, There pale as the Greek Slave of Powers she stood, Her white lips unstained by a vestige of blood, Her arms, like a Pythoness, in agony tossed, As she shrieked in her anguish, “O Lord, I am lost!” While footsteps fell round her as quick as the clatter Of a cavalcade’s hoofs, each one bawling at her “O Lulu, my darling, pray what is the matter?” “A serpent is biting me under my dress!” “Lord help us!” burst forth in a wail of distress, “It’s coiling around my--It’s big as a rail, And a great bunch of rattles tied on to its tail,” Ne’er toper saw snake from his jag or his jug Like this which clasped Lulu in terrible hug. There were sobbings and swooning away on the floor, Of disordered lingerie over a score, “Unions,” “Merodes,” and garters galore, Indeed ’twas a contretemps all might deplore! “A snake at a dance!” “How dare poke its face Into such an exceedingly improper place?” So the old snake in Paradise brought us to grief; He skulked behind Eve; Eve behind her fig leaf, And this great world, which it took a whole week to make, Went into bankruptcy, all for one snake.