She play'd me false, but that's not why br I haven't quite forgiven Di, br Although I've tried: br This curl was hers, so brown, so bright, br She gave it me one blissful night, br And - more beside! br In photo we were group'd together; br She wore the darling hat and feather br That I adore; br In profile by her side I sat br Reading my poetry - but that br She'd heard before. br br Why, after all, Di threw me over br I never knew, and can't discover, br Or even guess; br May be Smith's lyrics she decided br Were sweeter than the sweetest I did - br I acquiesce. br br A week before their wedding day, br When Smith was call'd in haste away br To join the Staff, br Di gave to him, with tearful mien, br Our only photograph. I've seen br That photograph. br br I've seen it in Smith's album-book! br Just think! her hat - her tender look, br Are now that brute's! br Before she gave it, off she cut br My body, head, and lyrics, but br She was obliged, the little slut, br To leave my Boots.