So her ribbons were lilac; white straw was her bonnet;
Her dress was light grey, with dark braiding upon it;
Her jacket was black; and her boots of stout leather
Were fitted for walking in all sorts of weather.
She was not very pretty, and yet in her smile
There was something that charmed by its freedom from guile:
And tho' lowly her lot, yet her natural grace
Made her look like a lady in figure and face.
A rose from the garden she wore on her breast,
And John, as her fingers he tenderly press'd,
Seemed to feel a sharp arrow ('twas Cupid's first dart)
Come straight from the rosebud and enter his heart.
Now John and Eliza are husband and wife;
Their quarrels are few, and contented their life;
They eat and they drink and they dress in good taste,
For their money they spend on their wants, not in waste.
But I'm sorry to say that Miss Emily Jane
Has still an aversion to dress that is plain;
And the consequence is that she always has stayed,
And is likely to stay, a disconsolate maid.
MORAL.
Young ladies, I hope you'll attend to my moral,
When you hear it, I'm sure you and I shall not quarrel:
If you're pretty, fine dress is not needed to show it;
If you're ugly, fine dress will make all the world know it.
Young men, if you wish, as I trust you all do,
A partner for worse or for better to woo,
Don't marry a peacock dressed out in gay feathers,
But a wife guaranteed to wear well in all weathers.