What have we here? `Eau Imperial Odontalgique.
I must say, mon cher, your names are chic.
But it wont do, positively it will not do.
Elba doesnt count. Ah, here is another:
`Baume du Commandeur. Thats better. He needs
something to smother
Regrets. A little lubricant, too,
Might be useful. I have it,
`Sage Oil, perhaps hell be good now; with it well submit
This fine German rouge. I fear he is pale.
Monsieur Antoine, dont rail
At misfortune. He treated me well and fairly.
And you prefer him to Bourbons, admit it squarely.
Heaven forbid! Bang! Whack!
Squeak! Squeak! Crack!
CRASH!
Oh, Lord, Martin! That shield is hash.
The whole street is covered with golden bees.
They look like so many yellow peas,
Lying there in the mud. Id like to paint it.
`Plum pudding of Empire. Thats rather quaint, it
Might take with the Kings. Shall I try? Oh,
Sir,
You distress me, you do. Poor old Martins purr!
But he hasnt a scratch in him, I know.
Now let us get back to the powders and patches.
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