With a ten-mile spin she stretches her limbs, She golfs, she punts, she rows, she swims— She plays, she sings, she dances, too, From ten or eleven till all is blue! At ball or drum, till small hours come (Chaperon’s fan conceals her yawning), She’ll waltz away like a teetotum, And never go home till daylight’s dawning. Lawn tennis may share her favours fair— Her eyes a-dance and her cheeks a-glowing— Down comes her hair, but what does she care? It’s all her own and it’s worth the showing! Go search the world and search the sea, Then come you home and sing with me There’s no such gold and no such pearl As a bright and beautiful English girl! Her soul is sweet as the ocean air, For prudery knows no haven there; To find mock-modesty, please apply To the conscious blush and the downcast eye. Rich in the things contentment brings, In every pure enjoyment wealthy, Blithe as a beautiful bird she sings, For body and mind are hale and healthy. Her eyes they thrill with right goodwill— Her heart is light as a floating feather— As pure and bright as the mountain rill That leaps and laughs in the Highland heather! Go search the world and search the sea, Then come you home and sing with me There’s no such gold and no such pearl As a bright and beautiful English girl! A MANAGER’S PERPLEXITIES WERE I a king in very truth, And had a son—a guileless youth— In probable succession; To teach him patience, teach him tact, How promptly in a fix to act, He should adopt, in point of fact, A manager’s profession. To that condition he should stoop (Despite a too fond mother), With eight or ten “stars” in his troupe, All jealous of each other! Oh, the man who can rule a theatrical crew, Each member a genius (and some of them two), And manage to humour them, little and great, Can govern a tuppenny-ha’penny State!