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CORN FLOWERS.

I

“The weather will change,” cries my Lady, in pain,
“My feet are in torture, I'm sure there'll be rain;
The Admiral whispered he'd take me in tow,
And he glanced at my feet as he said it, I know:
But now down at heel must my slipper be worn!
'Twill end in a cut—Oh, this horrible corn!”

II

A tight fit from Hoby the Captain has got,
Engaged to walk out with Miss Laura Lamotte,
But oh! in his boot a barometer lies!
His corn a sad change in the weather implies;
To limp is distraction! “Oh! why was I born?
In the flower of my youth I'm cut up by a corn!”

III

The Belle is preparing to grace the Race Ball,
Her foot is in anguish, her shoe is too small!
So partial to dancing, what is to be done?
How horrid the hopping and carrying one!
Cinderella's famed slipper of glass might be worn
As a weather-glass now! what a terrible corn!

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IV

There's a moral in this which is found without trouble;
The light step of youth may get into a hobble.
The shoe may be silken, the sole may be thin,
While the soul of the wearer is tortured within;
Where roses are sweetest most sharp is the thorn,
And Terpsichore's harvest is—cutting a corn!