AN ODE TO OUR FLAPPERS
Her tiny ears are covered,
With her hair of golden brown,
Her swan-like neck is open
To the gaze of half the town;
Her ankles, trim and graceful,
That delight the roving eye,
With a filmy gauze are covered,
To intrigue all passers by.
A thing of youth and beauty,
As she gaily trips along,
With her laugh and with her giggle,
And her little snatch of song.
Her head both light and empty,
She holds up like a Queen,
The “Flapper” of the moment,
Thus upon the street is seen.
What dwells within the compass,
Of that decorated head?
What thoughts and what ambitions,
And what dreams within are bred;
Is she a painted puppet,
But for laughter and for scorn,
A little social butterfly
That but for play was born?
There is Ethleen McEwan,
And pert little Alice Wright,
There’s vivacious Bessie Ogilvie
And cute Ruth Williamson,
There are scores of other heart breakers,
Employed at Edmonton,
We’ve got to hand it to ’em,
Whether it’s right or wrong.
Will they be sedate and serious,
As the years speed on apace?
Or grow more mature in wisdom,
And more matronly in grace?
Shall youthful effervescence,
Disappear in lightsome gleam,
And the “Flapper” be a woman,
Yes, the woman of our dream.
–With apologies, J.P.