THE FIEND NEXT DOOR.
Observer, Volume 27, 27 November 1894, Page 7
THE FIEND NEXT DOOR.
Each morning, evening and noon. He's played for many moons ; And though he's always out of tune. He's never out of tunes. " What sort of a girl is she ?"' " Oh, she is a miss with a mission." •' Ah!" " And her mission is seeking a man with a mansion."' We are making such strides in science, that, after awhile, we shall have cocoanuts containing sterilised milk.