Oh, fashion now is all the rage in houses, hoops, and dress;
And each must do what others do--they dare not think of less.
Mrs. Grundy is the queen of all mankind to-day;
And each one thinks before she acts of--What will Grundy say?
Mr. Tompkins fail’d last fall, and is not worth a red,
But still he lives upon the “Fifth,” and still holds up his head.
They keep their carriage all the same, though not a dime they pay;
They can’t retrench a cent, for shame of--What would Grundy say?
There’s Mary Jane, she’s tall and slim, a sack of bonesshe’s grown,
And brown as any Gipsy girl, and awkward as a clown;
Yet she must wear her dresses low, and her thin neck display,
For ’tis the fashion; and you know, What would Dame Grundy say?
There’s Mrs. Jones, she’s fifty-four, and still she curls her hair,
Although all know it is a wig the vain old dame doth wear,
She gives of balls, each season two, and wastes her wealth away?
For she must do as others do, else, what would Grundy say?
There’s fat and stumpy Martha Ann, that weighs two hundred pounds,
She’s a bait to catch a man, but not a bite has found.
And though she is so short and stout, she promenades Broadway;
Her skirts are thirty feet about, Oh, what will Grundy say?
There’s shanghai coats and bad cigars, and Musard’s new cravats;
There’s paper collars and wristbands, and bell-crown’d,
small-brimm’d hats;
For comfort, ease, and common-sense, must yield to fashion’s sway;
For now the sole prevailing thought is, what will Grundy say?
Old Dog Tray. 16
No. 2.
The morning meal is past--the next is coming fast--
’Twill bring me a bill that I know I can not pay,
For meats, both fat and lean, that I was jolly green
To trust beside that old dog Tray.