Gallia

LADY, lady neat Of the roguish eye, Wherefore dost thou hie, Stealthy, down the street, On well-booted feet? From French novels I Gather that you fly, Guy or Jules to meet.

Furtive dost thou range, Oft thy cab dost change; So, at least, ’tis said: Oh, the sad old tale Passionately stale, We’ve so often read!