The goodies slate us shop-girls sharp, say married life or sarvice
Are more respectabler. Oh lor! Just look at poor Jane Jarvis!
She were a dasher, Jenny were, 'er fringe and feathers took it,
And now—'er only 'ope's that Bill may tire of 'er and 'ook it.
You know that purple hostrich plume she were so proud of, Polly!
I bought it on 'er for five bob larst week, and it looks jolly
In my new 'at. But as she sat a snivellin' o'er that dollar,
Thinks I if this is married life 'Arriet's not game for collar.
She looked so suety and sad, and all them golden tresses
She was so proud of when it ran to smart new 'ats and dresses,