Eliza Tweet by Cyril Fletcher This is the tale of Eliza Tweet Who strolled one night along the street Picking with dainty fingertips A fourpenny plaice and two of chips, Wrapped in a sheet of news which seemed Had pictures which were most refined. Then suddenly in such a flutter She threw her chips out in the gutter, For on that greasy paper there Was the answer to a maidens prayer, 'Cos underneath her piece of plaice Was Cyril Fletcher's smiling face. So where the vinegar had trickled His features were a trifle pickled But 'Liza loved it just the same And put it in a photo frame... And now at bedtime has to pause For Cyril's on her chest of drawers. She turns his face round to the wall While she takes off her wear an' all Then dons her nighty, neat and plain And shyly turns him round again. Then she murmers, 'Good night, Duck!' And kisses where a chip has stuck Which mars his classic lips so chaste And gives them such a funny taste. And then she tells him she'll be true And swears he answers, 'Thanking you!' Then jumps in bed to take her rest With Cyril clutched against her chest And whispers,'Now I hope to be... Dreaming oh my love of thee!'
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