"Do you like my new hat?" says your wife, Appearing in awful disguise, A fabric whose towering strife Shrieks up to the horrified skies. "Do you like my new hat?" and she smiles, Her dimples with diffidence blent, And all the dear, timorous wiles That seek a delighted assent. And what is a fellow of wit, And honest, moreover, to do, But say, as he shudders from it, "At any rate, dear, I like you"? |