O trothful comrade,
What soever shall I do?
Hadst thou not been thither,
Biding by the loo?

My quiet white knight,
A bold one, is he,
Swift to save my ****—
Quite literally.

Howbeit grim the duty,
He bringeth to pass,
Removes all the blemish,
No questions asked.

Thro’ the sea an’ the storm,
We rest hand in hand;
Anon, a vanquished battle—
In pride we stand.

O trothful comrade,
If but it were e’er true,
That people were toilet papers,
Just such as thou.