Old Town Types No. 4 - Our Mr. Trim

Mr Trim, commercial traveller, is in town again,
'Our Mr Trim,' you know, debonair and neat;
Landed here this morning on the ten-thirty train;
Can't you hear him laughing there, half down the street?
A bland man, a breezy man, a man to take the eye;
With his trolly load of sample tins, his big leather bags.
Men say he's popular; ladies say, 'Oo, my!'
John George Augustus Trim, traveller in bags.

Mr Trim, the traveller, oh, very well-dressed,
Very much the lah-de-dah; handsome, too, at that;
Flowing, braided frock-coat (material the best)
Pantaloons of shepherd's plaid, tall shiny hat;
Curly set of 'sideboards,' big silk moustache,
Diamond on finger and a rolling eye of brown.
'Oo, such a one!' the ladies say. 'Such a shameless mash,'
And hearts are all a-flutter when our Mr Trim's in town.

Mr Trim, the traveller, drinking with the boys,
'Heard the latest yarn, lads? Got it at the club.'
'He's such a card, that Mr trim! Listen to that noise!
Such a fav-rite with the fellers,' says the lady at the pub.
Mr Trim, with customers, 'putting out a line,'
Feeding them with flattery, indulging every whim.
'Oh, better say two dozen. Shall I book it for you? Fine . . .'
A useful fellow,' says The Firm - 'Our Mr Trim.'

Mr Trim, the traveller, married rather well
Squatter's daughter, up the north - heaps and heaps of cash.
Put it in a wholesale house, so the gossips tell;
Stuck it for a dozen years, and then went smash.
Mr Trim is knocking round somewhere still they say,
Frock coat and shepherd's plaids drooping, like his hope;
Slightly down-at-heel and bald, cuffs inclined to fray
John George Augustus Trim, traveller in soap.