Sneak in, sneak out, brush-wielding wights,
Tread softly and talk low,
Take note of Mrs. Grundy’s scowl,
Observe her wrathful glow;
She don’t approve of frockless daubs
And that she’d have you know!
The Matron’s wishing even now
She’d never sought your door,
Since here are pictures on the line,
Some ten, if not a score,