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!"