"I don't like men, I never did." (Page 100)

FOREWORD

I

 

Here's a pretty tale to tell

All about the beastly boche—

How the Bolsheviki fell

Out of grace and in the wash!

—How all valiant lovers love,

How all villains go to hell,

Started thither by a shove

From the youth who loved so well,

Virtue mirrored in the glass

Held by his beloved lass.

 

 

II

 

He who grins in clown's disguise

Often hides an aching heart—

Sadness, sometimes worldly-wise,

Dresses for a motley part—

Cap, and bells to cheat the ears,

Chalk and paint to hide the tears

Lest the world, divining pain,

Turn to gape and stare again.

...

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