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CUTTING.
he world is not a perfect one,
All women are not wise or pretty,
All that are willing are not won—
More’s the pity—more’s the pity!
“Playing wall-flower’s rather flat,”
L’Allegro or Penseroso—
Not that women care for that—
But oh! they hate the slighting beau so!
Delia says my dancing’s bad—
She’s found it out since I have cut her;
She says wit I never had—
I said she “smelt of bread and butter.”
Mrs. Milton coldly bows—
I did not think her baby “cunning;”
Gertrude says I’ve little “nous”—
I tired of her atrocious punning.
Tom’s wife says my taste is vile—
I condemned her macarony;
Miss McLush, my flirt awhile,
Hates me—I preferred her crony;
