[It is reported that it is a common custom in Paris, amongst
ladies of position, to pay for their dresses by wearing them
in public, and letting it be known from whom they obtained
them.]
My dear, I like your pretty dress,
It suits your figure to a T.
I'm free to own that I confess,
It's just the kind of dress for me.
Yet will you kindly tell me, dear,
Not merely was the costume made for
Yourself alone--but is it clear
And certain that your dress is paid for?
Mistake me not. I do not dread
That you'll think fit to run away
And leave the bill unpaid. Instead,
I fear that you will never pay,
Because no bill will ever come;
And since when you decide to toddle
Abroad, you'll go amidst a hum
Of praise for Madame's lovely Model
Oh! promise me that when I read
My paper (as I often do),
I shall not with remorseless speed
See endless pars in praise of you,
Or rather of the dress you wore,
For though, maybe, no harm or hurt is meant,
Remember, dearest, I implore,
I _won't_ be fond of an advertisement!
* * * * *