Madame Eulalie’s Rare Plums

[One Virgile Marry, of Paris, attacked a stranger with a knife because he considered it “an unfriendly act for a man with such a face to go about the streets.”]

I am not one whose form and face
Are miracles of manly grace:
A Ouida guardsman, I admit,
Does not resemble me a bit.
But when through London’s streets I go,
Do passers-by attack me? No.

Pedestrians meet me in the Strand,
Yet every one withholds his hand.
However much my face offends,
They murmur softly to their friends
“’Twere better to eschew assault:
It may not be the fellow’s fault.”

But mark the stern Parisian:
He acts upon a different plan.
Should he, when on the boulevard, spy
An unattractive passer-by,
He hastens to attempt his life
By driving at him with a knife.

This summer I had meant to go
To Paris for a week or so.
I rather think I’d better tarry
Till death removes fastidious Marry.
 * * * * 
At Herne, its fascinating bay,
I’ll spend my annual holiday.