The ladies of St. James's! They have their fits and freaks; They smile on you-for seconds, They frown on you for weeks: But Phyllida, my Phyllida! Come either storm or shine, From Shrove-tide unto Shrove-tide, Is always true and mine. My Phyllida! my Phyllida! I care not though they heap The hearts of all St. James's, And give me all to keep; I care not whose the beauties Of all the world may be, For Phyllida-for Phyllida Is all the world to me! |