Poems (Cook)/Song of the Modern Time
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SONG OF THE MODERN TIME
On, how the world has alter'd since some fifty years ago!
When boots and shoes would really serve to keep out rain and snow;
But double soles and broad cloth—oh, dear me, how very low,
To talk of such old-fashion'd things! when every one must know
That we are well-bred gentlefolks, all of the modern time.
When boots and shoes would really serve to keep out rain and snow;
But double soles and broad cloth—oh, dear me, how very low,
To talk of such old-fashion'd things! when every one must know
That we are well-bred gentlefolks, all of the modern time.
We all meet now at midnight-hour, and form a "glittering throng,"
Where lovely angels polk and waltz, and chaunt a German song:
Where "nice young men," with fierce moustache, trip mincingly along,
And the name of a good old country-dance would sound like a Chinese gong
In the ears of well-bred gentlefolks, all of the modern time.
Where lovely angels polk and waltz, and chaunt a German song:
Where "nice young men," with fierce moustache, trip mincingly along,
And the name of a good old country-dance would sound like a Chinese gong
In the ears of well-bred gentlefolks, all of the modern time.
Your beardless boys, all brag and noise, must "do the thing that's right;"
That is, they'll drink champagne and punch, and keep it up all night:
They'll smoke and swear till, sallying forth at peep of morning light,
They knock down some old woman, just to show how well they fight;
Like brave young English gentlemen, all of the modern time.
That is, they'll drink champagne and punch, and keep it up all night:
They'll smoke and swear till, sallying forth at peep of morning light,
They knock down some old woman, just to show how well they fight;
Like brave young English gentlemen, all of the modern time.
At the good old hours of twelve and one our grandsires used to dine,
And quaff their horns of nut-brown ale, and eat roast beef and chine;
But we must have our silver forks, ragouts, and foreign wine,
And not sit down till five or six, if we mean to "cut a shine;"
Like dashing well-bred gentlefolks, all of the modern time.
And quaff their horns of nut-brown ale, and eat roast beef and chine;
But we must have our silver forks, ragouts, and foreign wine,
And not sit down till five or six, if we mean to "cut a shine;"
Like dashing well-bred gentlefolks, all of the modern time.
Our daughters now at ten years old must learn to squall and strum,
And study shakes and quavers under Signor Fee-Foo-Fum;
They'll play concertos, sing bravuras, rattle, scream, and thrum,
Till you almost wish that you were deaf, or they, poor things, were dumb;
But they must be like young gentlefolks, all of the modern time.
And study shakes and quavers under Signor Fee-Foo-Fum;
They'll play concertos, sing bravuras, rattle, scream, and thrum,
Till you almost wish that you were deaf, or they, poor things, were dumb;
But they must be like young gentlefolks, all of the modern time.
Our sons must jabber Latin verbs, and talk of a Greek root,
Before they've left off tunic skirts, cakes, lollypops, and fruit;
They all have "splendid talents," that the desk or bar would suit ;
Each darling boy would scorn to be "a low mechanic brute:"
They must be well-bred College "men," all of the modern time.
Before they've left off tunic skirts, cakes, lollypops, and fruit;
They all have "splendid talents," that the desk or bar would suit ;
Each darling boy would scorn to be "a low mechanic brute:"
They must be well-bred College "men," all of the modern time.
But bills will come at Christmas-tide, alas! alack-a-day!
The creditors may call again, "Papa's not in the way:
He's out of town, but certainly next week he'll call and pay;"
And then his name's in the "Gazette:" and this I mean to say
Oft winds up many gentlefolks, all of the modern time.
The creditors may call again, "Papa's not in the way:
He's out of town, but certainly next week he'll call and pay;"
And then his name's in the "Gazette:" and this I mean to say
Oft winds up many gentlefolks, all of the modern time.