She does not mind a good cigar
(The kind, that is, I smoke);
She thinks all men quite stupid are,
(But laughs whene’er I joke).

She says she does not care for verse
(But praises all I write);
She says that punning is a curse,
(But then mine are so bright!)

She does not like a big moustache
(You see that mine is small);
She hates a man with too much “dash,”
(I scarcely dash at all!)

She simply dotes on hazel eyes
(And mine, you note, are that);
She likes a man of portly size;
(Gad! I am getting fat!)

She says champagne is made to drink;
(In this we quite agree!)
And all these symptoms make me think
Sweet Kate’s in love with me.

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