When the breeze from the bluebottle's blustering blim / Twirls the toads in a tooroomaloo, / And the whiskery whine of the wheedlesome whim / Drowns the roll of the rattatattoo, / Then I dream in the shade of the shally-go-shee, / And the voice of the bally-molay / Brings the smell of stale poppy-cods blummered in blee / From the willy-wad over the way. […]
