MAIDEN slim and fair, with the golden hair,
So eager to snare with the knowing glance
Of your eyes so bright, and to waltz all night
With that step so light in the mazy dance,
Years ago, I swear, we once met somewhere;
We danced--you take care to forget that ball--
And my arm embraced that wasp's whalebone waist,
So cruelly laced, so absurdly small!
But then I declare you had nut-brown hair,
The colour's still there just down at the roots;
You are "fancy free," full of girlish glee,
But you're forty-three I would bet my boots.
Your beauty is rare, but I am aware
That face you prepare, that vile waist you buy,
Which corsets to civilised women give,
And hairdressers live so that you may dye.
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[Illustration: SO POLITE!!
_Slim nervous Gent_ (_pulling up at a regular facer_). "HOLD HARD, YOU
BRUTE! 'LADIES FIRST!'"]
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