If they can’t get a husband whose pocket is deep,
Though they don’t tell Pa what’s owing.
Three girls sat dressed to the best of their power,
And they trimmed their hair as the sun went down;
They thought of the ball, and they looked at the hour,
And the carriage came rolling up—coachman in brown—
For men must flirt, and women will weep
If they can’t get a husband whose pocket is deep,
Though they don’t tell Pa what’s owing,
Three swells are tied firmly in wedlock’s bands,