Although all know it is a wig the vain old dame doth wear,
She gives of balls, each season two, and wastes her wealth away
For she must do as others do, else, what would Grundy say?
There’s fat and stumpy Martha Ann, that weighs two hundred pounds,
She’s a bait to catch a man, but not a bite has found.
And though she is so short and stout, she promenades Broadway;
Her skirts are thirty feet about, Oh, what will Grundy say?
There’s shanghai coats and bad cigars, and Musard’s new cravats;
There’s paper collars and wristbands, and bell-crown’d, small-brimm’d hats;
For comfort, ease, and common-sense, must yield to fashion’s sway;