While The Billy BoilsSearchSome men mark time by Melbourne Cups,When someone’s gee was slow or fast;Some reckon by their downs and ups,The yester-stones they’ve plodded past.Some count it by a death or birth,Eclipses of the moon and sun,When Deeming said good-bye to earth,And when Ned Kelly’s race was run.Some calculate by queens and kings —Victoria, Edward, George and Co.,The swish of O tempora’s wings,The track eternal all must go.But I’ve a friend who does not flyTo horses past the stewards shoved;He marks the years important by —The girls he’s loved!
None of your sentimental spoons;Your here to-day, to-morrow gone,Your interrupted honeymoons,Erratic Jill, inconstant John,But steady, cautious kind of love,The sort that holds your hand and heart,The love that grips you like a glove —Until you’re both prepared to part.So my friend Romeo was true,So were the Juliets he adored.Till someone sweeter came in view,And Juliet elsewhere found accord.So when a certain date seek IFrom retrospective Romeo —“Oh yes, dear boy. That was,” he’ll sigh“Two girls ago!”
Three girls ago he shot the chuteAt Crawley with a bathing belle,Four girls ago he pressed his suitOn one he knew as Nifty NellToo middle-aged to go to war,He well recalls the stirring start;That year sweet Sarah first he saw,That week he hugged her to his heart.He knew when every troopship sailedFor he on someone’s shape was shook.He knows the month the Kaiser quailed,Because ’twas then that Kate went crook.He knows when Billzac and his matesBelted the Huns from Bretonneux —That was, according to his dates —Five girls ago!
The middle-aged of Carbine knowAnd by him count the flight of years.And cricketers to matches goTo days when Blackham’s name appears.The war that Kruger hoped to winBut did not live to see it lost,Enables some to surely shinThe mast of memory, tempest-tost.But Romeo has gladsome girlsTo help him mark the days that passHis calendars are framed in curls,Each period is a lovely lass.“When was the Orizaba wrecked?”You ask this belle-adoring beau —“As near as I can recollect,Twelve girls ago!”
From comets spinning round in space,From circling moons and stars and suns,On period’s pages dull we traceAnd regulate our noontide guns.But here is one who scorns the rulesOf astra-logic data deep;Classing as mathematic mulesAll they who clocks celestial keep.True love’s the only pendulumThe mainspring and the box of tricks,Between the earth and Kingdom ComeThe heart-beats are the truest ticks.If in a breach-of-promise case,The lawyer cross-examines youAnd tries your social sins to trace,Your calendar will see you through.But if the lawyer doubts your word,And if you’re married wants to know,You plea, “Excuse me, that occurredSome girls ago!”