OH, silken gown, all pink and pretty,
Bought, quite a bargain, in the City,
Your ill-trained soul full false has played me–
No Paris gown would have betrayed me.
You knew, my pretty silken treasure,
I must not wed for love or pleasure,
But for a settlement and title;
Yet you encouraged his recital!
He said–oh, faithless gown, you listened
While on your sheen two tear drops glistened–
He said . . . let love to music set it,
I’ll never speak it–nor forget it!
‘No, no!’ I cried, I tried to save you–
False gown, you showed the tears I gave you!
You looked discreet when first I found you.
How could you let his arm go round you?
You darling dress–I’ll smooth your creases,
I’ll wear you till you drop to pieces;
But poor men’s wives wear cotton only–
Dear gown–I hope you won’t feel lonely!
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