 | When life is young |  |
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ARAMANTHA MEHITABEL BROWN
Oh, Miss Aramantha Mehitabel BrownWas known as the prettiest girl in the town,
In the days of King George, number Three.
Her hat was a wonder
Of feathers and bows;
The pretty face under
Was sweet as a rose;
And her sleeves were so full they could tickle her nose!
Her dimity gown was a marvel to see;
So short in the waist!
And not a bit laced—
“Oh, mercy! I never would do it!” said she.
No cumbering train hid her dear little feet,
Yet the skirt that revealed them was ample and neat,—
Indeed all the modistes declared it was “sweet”;
And the bag that she swung from her plump little arm
Held a kerchief, a purse, and a luck-penny charm.
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And dainty and rare!
And the neighbors would sigh,
As she tripped lightly by:
“Sure, the pride of our town
And its fittest renown
Is sweet Aramantha Mehitabel Brown!”
| When life is young | |