Unpoetical Statesman sings:—
I'm Paris the Shepherd, pro tem.,
And here are the three pseudo-goddesses!—
Different, truly, from them
Who appeared, without veils, skirts, or bodices,
Unto Œnone's false swain.
Well, I've no Œnone to wig me;
But—at the first glance it's so plain,
Paris can't give the fruit to—a pigmy.
Heré? Ah! this must be she!