Madeira M’Dear Flanders & Swann

She was young, she was pure
She was new, she was nice
She was fair, she was sweet seventeen

He was old, he was vile
And no stranger to vice
He was base, he was bad, he was mean

He had slyly inveigled her up to his flat
To view his collection of stamps;
And he said as he hastened to put out the cat
The wine, his cigar, and the lamps:

"Have some madeira, m'dear
You really have nothing to fear;
I'm not trying to tempt you, that wouldn't be right
You shouldn't drink spirits at this time of night
Have some madeira, m'dear
It's so very much nicer than beer
I don't care for sherry, one cannot drink stout
And port is a wine I can well do without
It's simply a case of chacun à son goût —
Have some madeira, m'dear!"

Unaware of the wiles of the snake in the grass
Of the fate of the maiden who topes
She lowered her standards by raising her glass
Her courage, her eyes, and his hopes