Punch/Volume 147/Issue 3825/Casus Belli
(For a sensitive Scot.)
Tea-shop, how I loathe thee! Our connection's o'er,Henceforth I don't know thee Any more.
'Tisn't that I did not On thy pastry dote; 'Tisn't that it slid not Down my throat;
'Tisn't that thy crumpets Fell a trifle fiat—If I've got the hump it's Not from that.
'Tisn't that the waitress, Tried to wink at me, Or let fall a stray tress In my tea;
'Tisn't that I tossed thee Tenpence in the till For a snack that cost thee Almost nil...
Nay, 'twas this unnerved me— Just a scŏne alone, Which the lass who served me Called a scōne.