AN UNAPPRECIATED CRICHTON.
ONES has a party to-night,
But there's no invitation for me to it.
People are cutting me quite;
I shall pay a few visits and see to it.
True, I've a thousand a-year,
And am reckon'd the pink of propriety;
As to good-looking, look here!
Yet I never get on in Society.
'Tis not as though I were shy,
Or unmanner'd, or not introducible;
Lower-bred people than I
Have triumphantly gone through the crucible.
Many get polish'd in time
At the cost of a little anxiety;
What's my particular crime
That I never get on in Society?
Dance?—Well, I think I may say
I'm as graceful a partner as any one:
Sir, I could caper away
To a whistle—though simply a penny one.
Sing?—I could give you a list
Of enormous extent and variety.
Play?—Let me show you my wrist
Yet I never get on in Society.
Hearing me talk is a treat,
When I take a discourse philosophic up,
During the tea, or repeat
Little anecdotes over my coffee-cup.
If you 've a passion for puns,
I could feed you on them to satiety—
New and original ones;
Yet I never get on in Society.
Two or three glasses of wine
Give a spur to good-humour and merriment;
So that, wherever I dine,
I repeat the delightful experiment.
Not that I drink till I lapse
From the paths of the strictest sobriety;
Still, now and then—why, perhaps—
Yet I never get on in Society!