HE'S ALL RIGHT, BUT—!

I like the good old-fashioned way— A handshake or a slap,— The boys who jab your ribs and say "You're all right, Bill, Old Chap!" I like the lad who sees you first And always shouts your name,— Who, tho your luck be at its worst, Says—"Cheer up, Bill! Be game!" I like the chum who's always glad To soothe you when you're ill,— Who, when he finds you broke and sad, Says—"Here's a Dollar, Bill!" I'd like to grab him by the throat And hold his mouth tight shut,— Who, questioned, makes you out the goat— "Who? Bill? He's all right, but—!"