For they're left to the care of a maid;
My wife can't attend to "the units,"
"The millions" are wanting her aid.
And it's vulgar to care for one's offspring—
The mere brute has a love of its kind—
But she loves the whole human fam'ly,
For she is a woman of mind.
Every thing is an inch thick in dust,
And the servants do just as they please;
The ceilings are cover'd with cobwebs,