Blackberries | ||
[Who may this be, comes lounging through the door]
Who may this be, comes lounging through the doorWith stuck-up eyeglass, drawling at his ease?
Now, Cadling, in the first place, if you please,
Off with your hat!—come, try to bend your knees!—
Down, sirrah, rub your nose upon the floor!
Blackberries | ||