A Parody

            Tell me, ye winged winds,
            That rounds my pathway roar,
            Do ye not know some spot
            Where women fret no more?
            Some lone and pleasant dell,
            Some “holler in the ground,”
            Where babies never yell,
            And cradles are not found?
The loud wind blew the snow into my face,
And snickered as it answered—“Nary place.”

            Tell me, thou misty deep,
            Whose billows round me play,
            Know'st thou some favored spot,
            Some Island far away,
            Where weary men may find
            A place to smoke in peace,
            Were crinoline is not,
            And hoops are out of place!
The loud waves, sounding a perpetual shout,
Stopt for a while, and spluttered, “Yeou git eout.”

            And thou serenest moon,
            That, with such holy face,
            Dost look upon the girls
            With their beaux embrace,
            Tell me, in all thy round,
            Hast thou not seen some spot
            Where muslin is not known,
            And calico is not?
Behind a cloud the moon withdrew in woe,
And a voice sweet but sad responded, “Pooh!”

            Tell me, my secret soul—
            Oh! tell me, Hope and Faith,
            Is there no resting place
            From women, girls and death?
            Is there no happy spot
            Where bachelors are blessed,
            Where females never go,
            And may dwell in peace?
Faith, Hope and Truth—best boons to mortals given—
Waved their bright wings, and answered, “Yes, in Heaven!”