A SEASONABLE PARODY.

Three women went waddling out into the surf,
Out into the surf at Newport town;
Each wore a bath suit of the very best,
Costing as much as a wedding-gown.
For men must work, and women must lave,
And what men earn their wives don't save,
Though husbands they be moaning.
Three brokers sat up at three high desks,
And balanced their books as the sun went down;
Each "poring" o'er ledgers that wouldn't come straight,
Each wrapped in a study disgustingly brown.
For men must sweat, and women keep cool,
And woman will ever be fashion's fool,
Though husbands they be moaning.
Three names are struck from the Gold Board's books,
Three brokers' sign-boards are taken down;
Three men are busy "seeing their friends,"
Borrowing money to get out of town.
For men must break if women must waste,
And it costs a deal to be "people of taste,"
So good-bye to the fools and their moaning.