(A Song of the Modern Masher.)
Oh! other centuries have had their blades, their bucks, their dandies,
Who had redeeming qualities, but what no man can stand is
The up-to-date variety, that miserable nonny,
The self-conceited jackanapes who calls himself a "Johnny."
He hasn't got the brawn or brains to go in for excesses,
His faults are feeble—like himself,—he dawdles, dines, and dresses,
His words, his hair, his silly speech to sheer negation clippin',
And when he wants to praise a thing, his only word is "Rippin'."
Chorus.