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Excuse me, my lord,
May I request, my lord,
Permission, my lord, to speak?
Forgive me if I suggest, my lord,
You're looking less than your best, my lord,
There's powder upon your vest, my lord.
And stubble upon your cheek,
And ladies, my lord, are weak.

Fret not though, my lord,
I know a place, my lord,
A barber, my lord, of skill.
Thus armed with a shaven face, my lord,
Some eau de cologne to brace, my lord
And musk to enhance the chase, my lord,
You'll dazzle the girl until|she bows to your every will.

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