When ladies their beauties show;
"Mrs. Cook," said Catskin, "dear me,
How much I should like to go!"
"You go with your Catskin robe,
You dirty impudent slut!
Among the fine ladies and lords,
A very fine figure you'd cut."
A basin of water she took,
And dash'd in poor Catskin's face;
But briskly her ears she shook,