 | 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition |  |
762
THE PENNY POPULAR.
It's just one penny, gentlemen, no more,
Come in;
And such a varied feast and damty store
Of sin,
Or scandal, never offered was to men,
And never will be by the gayest pen;
Here are
The latest stories of the loudest club,
The star
Beaming with borrowed gems of some one's cub,
Who heaps her harlot plate,
With all the old estate.
Come in;
And such a varied feast and damty store
Of sin,
Or scandal, never offered was to men,
And never will be by the gayest pen;
Here are
The latest stories of the loudest club,
The star
Beaming with borrowed gems of some one's cub,
Who heaps her harlot plate,
With all the old estate.
A trifle merely, ladies, never mind
The nude
And wanton figures, that would deem a blind
So rude;
Nor are they worse than that new evening dress,
A figleaf and the lovely nakedness;
These shapes
Despise the vulgar forms, which folly hides
And drapes,
And brazen forth their charms on Fashion's tides;
They would, for royal stare,
Their every limb unbare.
The nude
And wanton figures, that would deem a blind
So rude;
Nor are they worse than that new evening dress,
A figleaf and the lovely nakedness;
These shapes
Despise the vulgar forms, which folly hides
And drapes,
And brazen forth their charms on Fashion's tides;
They would, for royal stare,
Their every limb unbare.
Dear innocents, too, let your tender hearts,
If pure,
Drink in the dew of these lascivious arts,
Demure,
And learn how well a mother or a sire,
Picks doubtful jewels from undoubtful mire;
The day
Has long departed, when the baby child
With play
And decent toys was honestly beguil'd;
Now, for the nursery, vice
Is sweetened and made nice.
If pure,
Drink in the dew of these lascivious arts,
Demure,
And learn how well a mother or a sire,
Picks doubtful jewels from undoubtful mire;
The day
Has long departed, when the baby child
With play
And decent toys was honestly beguil'd;
Now, for the nursery, vice
Is sweetened and made nice.
And you, O blushing Puritan, poor maid,
Come in;
It cannot be, an English girl afraid
Of sin;
Fie, such is sacred now, the clergy look
With favour on the filthiest play or book;
Our time
Has swept away the stupid old restraints,
And slime
Or falsehood now it delicately paints;
Why, darlings should you pout,
When prelates don't stay out?
Come in;
It cannot be, an English girl afraid
Of sin;
Fie, such is sacred now, the clergy look
With favour on the filthiest play or book;
Our time
Has swept away the stupid old restraints,
And slime
Or falsehood now it delicately paints;
Why, darlings should you pout,
When prelates don't stay out?
| 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition | |