Now, Charlotte, dear, attend to me,
You know you're coming out,
And in the best society
Will shine, beyond a doubt.
Things were not always so with us,--
But let oblivion's seal
For ever shut out former days--
They were so ungenteel.
And as for country neighbours, child,
You must forget them all;
And never visit any place
That is not Park or Hall.
But if you know a titled name,
That knowledge ne'er conceal;
And mention nothing in the world,
Except it be genteel.
But think no more of Henry, child;
His love is pure, I know;
He writes delightful verses too;
But cannot be your _beau_.
He never as at Almack's, sure,--
From that there's no appeal;
For neither gifts nor graces now
Can make a man genteel.
You know Lord Worthless,--Charlotte, would
Not that be quite a match,
If not so very often in
The keeping of the watch?
He paid some damages last year,
Though slippery as an eel;
But then such vices in a peer
Are perfectly genteel.
And you must cut the Worthies--they're
No company for you;
Though all of them are lovely girls,
And very clever too.
'Tis true, we found them kind, when all
The world were cold as steel;
'Tis true, they were your early friends;
But, then, they're not genteel.
There's Lady Waxwork, who, when dressed,
Has nothing she can say;
Miss Triffle of her lap-dog's tail
Will chatter half the day.
The Honourable Mr. Trick
At cards can cheat or steal:--
_These_ are the friends that suit us now,
For oh! they're _so_ genteel!
But, Charlotte, dear, avoid the Blues,
No matter when, or how;
For literature is quite beneath
The higher classes now.
Though Raphael paint, or Homer sing,
Oh! never seem to feel;
Young ladies should not have a soul,--
It's really ungenteel.
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