Another insists upon punch and perdrix,
Lobster-salad, champagne, and, by way
Of a novelty only, those pearls of our sea,
Stewed oysters from Lynn-Haven Bay.
Miss Flounce, the young milliner, blue-eyed and bright,
In the front parlor over her shop,
“Entertains,” as the phrase is, a party to-night,
Upon peanuts and ginger-pop.
And Miss Fleece, who’s a hosier, and not quite as young,
But is wealthier far than Miss Flounce,
She “entertains” also to-night with cold tongue,
Smoked herring, and cherry-bounce.
In praise of cold water the Theban bard spoke,
He of Teos sang sweetly of wine;
Miss Flounce is a Pindar in cashmere and cloak,
Miss Fleece an Anacreon divine.
The Montagues carry the day in Swamp Place;
In Pike Street the Capulets reign;
A limonadière is the badge of one race,
Of the other a flask of champagne.
Now as each the same evening her soirée announces,
What better, he asks, can be done
Than drink water from eight until ten with the Flounces,
And then wine with the Fleeces till one!
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