When I was young and scarce eighteen I drove a roaring trade and many's the sly trick I played on many a pretty maid. But my parents saw this would not do for I'd soon have spent their store, so they resolved that I should go on board a man o' war. The bold press gang surrounded me, the warrant they did show and they declared that I should go to fight a daring foe. So to the port they dragged me off and then I cursed my fate - for there I found that I should float on board a ninety-eight!
She was not there tonight. I had not thought I should care, but I do. Things have accelerated, the slow stroll has become something rather more hurried, the casual glance, something more penetrating, the children's game, something rather more serious with real loss and the vain promise of real gain. What was fantasy is become real and this is rarely for the good.
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