Old Gouty trundles with his pair,
De Bootle saunters, cane in air—
I’m wondering, who’s that golden hair-
’d young lady?
What fools we are!—Le Follets’ page
Makes yellow ringlets all the rage,
And willy nilly,
Poor ebon poles must cut their stick
And silver change its ‘plaiting’ quick,
Now only ‘gold’ is picked in Pic-