The Reciter/Billy Dip
———
BILLY DIP.
Chloe, a maid at fifty-five,
Was at her toilette dressing ;
Her waiting-maid, with iron hot,
Each paper'd curl was pressing.
The looking-glass her eyes engross,
While Betty humm'd a ditty;
She gazed so much upon her face,
She really thought it pretty.
Her painted cheeks and pencil brows,
She could not but approve.
Her thoughts on various subjects turn'd,
At length they fix'd on love:
"And shall," said she, "a virgin life
Await these pleasing charms?
And will no sighing blooming youth
Receive me to his arms?-
Forbid it, Love!" She scarce had spoke,
When Cupid laid a trap;
For, at the chamber door was heard
A soft and gentle rap:
Cried Betty, "who is at the door?"
"Aye tell," quoth Chloe, "true:"
When straight a tender voice replied,
"Dear ma'am, I dye for you
"What's that,” she said, "O, Betty, say!
A man! and die for me!
And can I see the youth expire---
Oh, no! it must not be!
Haste, Betty,---open quick the door:"
'Tis done ; and, lo! to view,
A little man with bundle stood,
In sleeves and apron blue
Ye Powers!" cried Chloe, "what is this?
What vision do I see?
Is this the man, oh, mighty Love!---
Тhe man that dies for me?"
"Yes ma'am; your ladyship is right,"
The figure straight replied;
"And hard for me it would have been
If I had never dyed.
La! ma'am, you must have heard of me,
Although I'm no highflyer;
I live just by at No. 1,
I'm Billy Dip, the dyer.
Twas I, ma'am, Betty there employed
To dye your lustering gown;
And I not only dye for you
But I dye for the whole town."