 You've been scrapping, too, ain't you? I have. With every scud who'd take his coat off to me. And each time I'd be hitting one clout in a mug, it wasn't his face I'd be seeing, it's all but yours. And me wanting to drive you a blow would knock you out of this world where I wouldn't be seeing or thinking more of you. Thanks. Oh, that's right. Make game of me.