So devout—I suppose she don’t know
That she’s bending her head too far over
And the end of her switches all show.
What a sight Mrs. Ward is this morning!
That woman will kill me some day,
With her horrible lilacs and crimsons,
Why will these old things dress so gay?
And there’s Jenny Wells with Fred Tracy—
She’s engaged to him now—horrid thing!
Dear me! I’d keep on my glory sometimes,