Page:Backblock Ballads and Later Verses (C.J. Dennis, 1918).djvu/127

But still, although one likes to keep
    One's self a bit select,
And not be, so to speak, too cheap,
    I'm broad in that respect.
So oft, on sultry summer eves,
    I waive all diffidence,
And chat across the wilted leaves
    That garb our garden fence.

But, oh, his talk is so absurd!
    His notions are so crude.
Such drivel I have seldom heard;
    His mode of speech is rude.
He mentions "stomach" in a bark
    You'd hear across the street.
He lacks those little ways that mark
    A gentleman discreet.

Good books he seldom seems to read;
    In Art all taste he lacks.
To Slopham's works he pays no heed;
    He scorns my almanacks—
Framed almanacks! It's simply rot
    To hear the fellow prate
About Velasquez, Villon, Scott,
    And such folk out of date.