When this old cap was new
'Tis since two hundred years.

When this old cap was new
'Tis since two hundred years.

He was a wight of high renowne,
And thosne but of a low degree;
Itt's pride that read more

He was a wight of high renowne,
And thosne but of a low degree;
Itt's pride that putts the countrye downe,
Man, take thine old cloake about thee.

Gars auld claes look amaist as weel's the new.

Gars auld claes look amaist as weel's the new.

Still to be neat, still to be drest,
As you were going to a feast,
Still to read more

Still to be neat, still to be drest,
As you were going to a feast,
Still to be powder'd, all perfum'd.
Lady, it is to be presumed,
Though art's hid causes are not found,
All is not sweet, all is not sound.

Miss Flora McFlimsey of Madison Square,
Has made three separate journeys to Paris,
And her father assures read more

Miss Flora McFlimsey of Madison Square,
Has made three separate journeys to Paris,
And her father assures me each time she was there
That she and her friend Mrs. Harris . . .
Spent six consecutive weeks, without shopping
In one continuous round of shopping,-- . . .
And yet, though scarce three months have passed since the day
This merchandise went on twelve carts, up Broadway,
This same Miss McFlimsey of Madison Square
The last time we met was in utter despair
Becasue she had nothing whatever to wear.

A night-cap deck'd his brows instead of bay,
A cap by night,--a stocking all the day.

A night-cap deck'd his brows instead of bay,
A cap by night,--a stocking all the day.

Thy clothes are all the soul thou hast.

Thy clothes are all the soul thou hast.

Attired to please herself: no gems of any kind
She wore, nor aught of borrowed gloss in Nature's stead;
read more

Attired to please herself: no gems of any kind
She wore, nor aught of borrowed gloss in Nature's stead;
And, then her long, loose hair flung round her head
Fell carelessly behind.

A winning wave, (deserving note.)
In the tempestuous petticote,
A careless shoe-string, in whose tye
read more

A winning wave, (deserving note.)
In the tempestuous petticote,
A careless shoe-string, in whose tye
I see a wilde civility,--
Doe more bewitch me than when art
Is too precise in every part.