I met her on a bus (let’s say a coach, she much preferred it).

And when I asked her round to chat, she modestly deferred it.

She said “As yet I do not know you; – still , I wont be bossy;

I’ll tell you what I’d die for – that’s an ice cream made by Rossi.

And though it means I’m seen with you in public, take me thither!

That lady who epitomised the one age cannot wither.

The day was warm, the ice cream cold, the awning cool and shady:

The shadows danced; I sat entranced, I’d met my Ice Cream Lady !

What though her lines when young, I’m sure, were sensuous and torrid:-

And since we’ve been acquainted most are etched upon her forehead ?

What does matter ? I’m aware as days go by, there’s nary a

Moment that I am sorry that I met La Gelateria.