Their feet through faithless leather met the dirt,
And oftener chang'd their principles than shirt.

Their feet through faithless leather met the dirt,
And oftener chang'd their principles than shirt.

Each Bond-street buck conceits, unhappy elf;
He shows his clothes! alas! he shows himself.
O that they read more

Each Bond-street buck conceits, unhappy elf;
He shows his clothes! alas! he shows himself.
O that they knew, these overdrest self-lovers,
What hides the body oft the mind discovers.

Still to be neat, still to be drest,
As you were going to a feast,
Still to read more

Still to be neat, still to be drest,
As you were going to a feast,
Still to be powder'd, all perfum'd.
Lady, it is to be presumed,
Though art's hid causes are not found,
All is not sweet, all is not sound.

A painted vest Prince Voltiger had on,
Which from a naked Pict his grandsire won.

A painted vest Prince Voltiger had on,
Which from a naked Pict his grandsire won.

Miss Flora McFlimsey of Madison Square,
Has made three separate journeys to Paris,
And her father assures read more

Miss Flora McFlimsey of Madison Square,
Has made three separate journeys to Paris,
And her father assures me each time she was there
That she and her friend Mrs. Harris . . .
Spent six consecutive weeks, without shopping
In one continuous round of shopping,-- . . .
And yet, though scarce three months have passed since the day
This merchandise went on twelve carts, up Broadway,
This same Miss McFlimsey of Madison Square
The last time we met was in utter despair
Becasue she had nothing whatever to wear.

She's adorned
Amply, that in her husband's eye looks lovely,--
The truest mirror that an honest wife
read more

She's adorned
Amply, that in her husband's eye looks lovely,--
The truest mirror that an honest wife
Can see her beauty in!

A winning wave, (deserving note.)
In the tempestuous petticote,
A careless shoe-string, in whose tye
read more

A winning wave, (deserving note.)
In the tempestuous petticote,
A careless shoe-string, in whose tye
I see a wilde civility,--
Doe more bewitch me than when art
Is too precise in every part.

Now old Tredgortha's dead and gone,
We ne'er shall see him more;
He used to wear an read more

Now old Tredgortha's dead and gone,
We ne'er shall see him more;
He used to wear an old grey coat,
All buttoned down before.

John Lee is dead, that good old man,--
We ne'er shall see him more:
He used to read more

John Lee is dead, that good old man,--
We ne'er shall see him more:
He used to wear an old drab coat
All buttoned down before.