The frills that once she wore behind
She fastens on her arms.
Her sleeves are made in open bags
Like trousers in the Navy;
No more she sweeps the streets, but drags
Her sleeve across the gravy.
Lenten non lent-’em.—Fräulein von Under Standt. “How very plainly zat dear Lady Churchleigh is dressed!”
Friend. “Yes, indeed. But, you must remember, it is Lent.”
Fräulein. “Ach no! You do not mean to tell me really and truly zat she borrows her dresses?”