I don’t care, I think it’s a sin
For people to get late to service,
Just to make a great show coming in.
Oh, you’ve got here at last, my dear, have you?
Well, I don’t think you need be so proud
Of that bonnet if Virot did make it,
It’s horrid fast-looking and loud.
What a dress!—for a girl in her senses
To go on the street in light blue!
And those coat-sleeves—they wore them last summer—