So the milliners now I pass by;
Though dearly they pleased me of yore;
If a girl musn't gush, squirm, and sigh,
Even shopping becomes quite a bore.
For "gorgeous" I languish in vain,
And I pine for a "love"--and a "dear."
Oh! why did I vow to be plain--
In my speech? It sounds awfully queer!
Stop! "Awfully" is not allowed.
Though it _will_ slip out sometimes, I own.
Oh, I might as well sit in my shroud,
As use moderate language alone.
To force us fair nymphs to forego
The hyperbole dear to our heart,
And the slang without which speech is "slow,"
Is to make us a "people apart."
Oh, to say (without fines) "quite too-too!"
For dear "awfully jolly" I yearn.
I would "chuck" all my friends, sweet--save you--
To the pathways of Gush to return.
Eh? "_Chuck_" did I say? That is Slang!
And "_Sweet_?" That's decidedly Gush!
Oh, let the A.G.S. go hang!
My old love returns with a rush.
It is "gorgeous" once more to be free,
O'er a frock or a first night to glow.
Come to-morrow! Go shopping with me,
_Ownest own_--and we'll gush as we go!
[Footnote 1: SHENSTONE, not _Mr. Punch_, is responsible for the
peccant participle.]
* * * * *
THE MODERN NELSON MOTTO.--At the Church Congress.
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