| |
| THE TOWN is at the Ball to-night, | |
| The Town is at the Ball; | |
| From the Battery to Hickory Lane | |
| The Beaux come one and all. | |
| The French folk up along the Sound | 5 |
| Took carriage for the city, | |
| And Madge the Belle, from New Rochelle, | |
| Will stop with Lady Kitty. | |
| |
| And if the Beaux could have their way | |
| Their choice would be, in Brief, | 10 |
| That Madge the Bell should lead the Ball | |
| And open with THE CHIEF. | |
| Though Lady Kitty’s high estate | |
| May give this choice some reason, | |
| By Right Divine Madge holds the place— | 15 |
| The Toast of all the Season. | |
| |
| Behold her as she trips the floor | |
| By Lady Kitty’s side— | |
| How low bows Merit at her glance, | |
| And Valour, true and tried! | 20 |
| Each hand that late the sword-hilt grasped | |
| Would fain her hand be pressing— | |
| But, ah! fair Madge, who’ll wear your badge | |
| Is past all wooer’s guessing. | |
| |
| The Colonel bows his powdered head | 25 |
| Well-nigh unto her feet; | |
| Fame’s Trump rings dull unto his ears, | |
| That wait her Accents sweet. | |
| The young Leftenant, Trig and Trim, | |
| Who lately won his spurs, | 30 |
| Casts love-sick glances in her way, | |
| And wins no glance of hers. | |
| |
| Before her bows the Admiral, | |
| Whose head was never bowed | |
| Before the foamy-crested wave | 35 |
| That wet the straining shroud. | |
| And all his pretty midshipmen, | |
| They stand there in a line, | |
| Saluting this Fair Craft that sails | |
| With no surrendering sign. | 40 |
| |
| And so she trips across the floor | |
| On Lady Kitty’s arm, | |
| And grizzled pates and frizzled pates | |
| All bow before her charm. | |
| And she will dance the minuet, | 45 |
| A-facing Lady Kitty, | |
| Nor miss THE CHIEF—she hath, in brief, | |
| Her choice of all the city. . . . . . . . | |
| But in the minuet a hand | |
| Shall touch her finger-tips, | 50 |
| And almost to a Kiss shall turn | |
| The Smile upon her lips; | |
| And he is but a midship boy, | |
| And she is Madge the Belle; | |
| But never to Chief nor to Admiral | 55 |
| Such a tale her lips shall tell. . . . . . . . | |
| The Town is at the Ball to-night, | |
| The Town is at the Ball, | |
| And the Town shall talk as never before | |
| Ere another night shall fall; | 60 |
| And men shall rave in Rector street, | |
| And men shall swear in Pine, | |
| And hearts shall break for Madge’s sake | |
| From Bay to City Line. | |
| |
| And Lady Kit shall wring her hands, | 65 |
| And write the tale to tell | |
| (To that much dreaded Maiden Aunt | |
| Who lives at New Rochelle) | |
| All of a gallant Midshipman | |
| Who wooed in April weather | 70 |
| The Fairest of All at the Chieftain’s Ball— | |
| And they ran away together. | |
| |
