Gentlemen's fashions will remain just the same, that is to say, as ugly as ever.
A DREAM OF THE YEAR.
(AFTER PLANCHE'S "DÆDALUS.")
I'm in such a flutter I scarcely can utter
The words to my tongue that come dancing—come dancing
I've had such a dream, that it really must seem
To a telegraph e'en like romancing—romancing;
I must have got frisky on Kinahan's whisky,
Although I don't wish you to blab it—to blab it;
Or else 'twas a question of slight indigestion,