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"HE IS AN ENGLISHMAN."

Of such a deuced scrubby lot,

No decent fellow 'll go.

Then cads all dress so badly there,

And gentlemen so well,

One can distinguish which is which,

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Now here, a man can't tell.

I rode a goodish bit out there;

They pretty much all do;

I always used to keep a back,

And thoroughbred or two.

This pounding along Beacon Street

Is rather slowish fun

Beside an outing on The Row,

Or a cross-country run.

And then this early dining here, -

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