Pink Dominoes
“They are fools who kiss and tell”—Wisely has the poet sung.Man may hold all sorts of postsIf he'll only hold his tongue.
Jenny and Me were engaged, you see,On the eve of the Fancy Ball;So a kiss or two was nothing to youOr any one else at all.
Jenny would go in a domino—Pretty and pink but warm;While I attended, clad in a splendidAustrian uniform.
Now we had arranged, through notes exchangedEarly that afternoon,At Number Four to waltz no more,But to sit in the dusk and spoon.
I wish you to see that Jenny and MeHad barely exchanged our troth;So a kiss or two was strictly dueBy, from, and between us both.
When Three was over, an eager lover,I fled to the gloom outside;And a Domino came out alsoWhom I took for my future bride.
That is to say, in a casual way,I slipped my arm around her;With a kiss or two (which is nothing to you),And ready to kiss I found her.
She turned her head and the name she saidWas certainly not my own;But ere I could speak, with a smothered shriekShe fled and left me alone.
Then Jenny came, and I saw with shameShe'd doffed her domino;And I had embraced an alien waist—But I did not tell her so.
Next morn I knew that there were twoDominoes pink, and oneHad cloaked the spouse of Sir Julian House,Our big Political gun.
Sir J. was old, and her hair was gold,And her eye was a blue cerulean;And the name she said when she turned her headWas not in the least like “Julian.”
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