!

'Twas awful to hear, as she went along,
The wicked words of the popular song;
Or supposing she listen'd--as gossips will--
At a door ajar, or a window agape,
To catch the sounds they allow'd to escape,
Those sounds belonged to Depravity still!
The dark allusion, or bolder brag
Of the dexterous "dodge", and the lots of "swag",
The plunder'd house--or the stolen nag--
The blazing rick, or the darker crime,
That quench'd the spark before its time--
The wanton speech of the wife immoral--
The noise of drunken or deadly quarrel,
With savage menace, which threaten'd the life,
Till the heart seem'd merely a strop "for the knife";
The human liver, no better than that
Which is sliced and thrown to an old woman's cat;
And the head, so useful for shaking and nodding,
To be punch'd into holes, like "a shocking bad hat,"
That is only fit to be punch'd into wadding!

In short, wherever she turn'd the horn,
To the highly bred, or the lowly born,
The working man, who look'd over the hedge,
Or the mother nursing her infant pledge,
The sober Quaker, averse to quarrels,
Or the Governess pacing the village through,
With her twelve Young Ladies, two and two,
Looking, as such young ladies do,
Truss'd by Decorum and stuff'd with morals--
Whether she listen'd to Hob or Bob,
Nob or Snob,
The Squire on his cob,
Or Trudge and his ass at a tinkering job,
To the "Saint" who expounded at "Little Zion"--
Or the "Sinner" who kept "the Golden Lion"--
The man teetotally wean'd from liquor--
The Beadle, the Clerk, or the Reverend Vicar--
Nay, the very Pie in its cage of wicker--
She gather'd such meanings, double or single,
That like the bell
With muffins to sell,
Her ear was kept in a constant tingle!

But this was nought to the tales of shame,
The constant runnings of evil fame,
Foul, and dirty, and black as ink,
That her ancient cronies, with nod and wink,
Pour'd in her horn like slops in a sink:
While sitting in conclave, as gossips do,
With their Hyson or Howqua, black or green,
And not a little of feline spleen
Lapp'd up in "Catty packages," too,
To give a zest of the sipping and supping;
For still by some invisible tether,
Scandal and Tea are link'd together,
As surely as Scarification and Cupping;
Yet never since Scandal drank Bohea--
Or sloe, or whatever it happen'd to be,
For some grocerly thieves
Turn over new leaves,
Without much amending their lives or their tea--