My figure just sets off a fit; But when they say it's exquisite (And they DO say so), that's too strong.

I hope I'm not what people call Opinionated! After all, I'm but a goose, and may be wrong!

When charms enthral There's some excuse For measures strong; And after all I'm but a goose, And may be wrong!

My teeth are very neat, no doubt; But after all they MAY fall out: I think they will - some think they won't.

My hands are small, as you may see, But not as small as they might be, At least, I think so - others don't.

But there, a girl may preach and prate From morning six to evening eight, And never stop to dine, When all the world, although misled, Is quite agreed on any head - And it is quite agreed on mine!

All said and done, It's little I Against a throng.

I'm only one, And possibly I may be wrong!

Ballad: Put A Penny In The Slot

If my action's stiff and crude, Do not laugh, because it's rude.

If my gestures promise larks, Do not make unkind remarks.

Clockwork figures may be found Everywhere and all around.

Ten to one, if I but knew, You are clockwork figures too.

And the motto of the lot, "Put a penny in the slot!"

Usurer, for money lent, Making out his cent per cent - Widow plump or maiden rare, Deaf and dumb to suitor's prayer - Tax collectors, whom in vain You implore to "call again" - Cautious voter, whom you find Slow in making up his mind - If you'd move them on the spot, Put a penny in the slot!

Bland reporters in the courts, Who suppress police reports - Sheriff's yeoman, pen in fist, Making out a jury list - Stern policemen, tall and spare, Acting all "upon the square" - (Which in words that plainer fall, Means that you can square them all) - If you want to move the lot, Put a penny in the slot!

Ballad: Good Little Girls

Although of native maids the cream, We're brought up on the English scheme - The best of all For great and small Who modesty adore.

For English girls are good as gold, Extremely modest (so we're told), Demurely coy - divinely cold - And we are that - and more.

To please papa, who argues thus - All girls should mould themselves on us, Because we are, By furlongs far, The best of all the bunch; We show ourselves to loud applause From ten to four without a pause - Which is an awkward time because It cuts into our lunch.

Oh, maids of high and low degree, Whose social code is rather free, Please look at us and you will see What good young ladies ought to be!

And as we stand, like clockwork toys, A lecturer papa employs To puff and praise Our modest ways And guileless character - Our well-known blush - our downcast eyes - Our famous look of mild surprise (Which compet.i.tion still defies) - Our celebrated "Sir!!!"

Then all the crowd take down our looks In pocket memorandum books.

To diagnose, Our modest pose The kodaks do their best: If evidence you would possess Of what is maiden bashfulness, You only need a b.u.t.ton press - And WE do all the rest.

Ballad: Life

First you're born - and I'll be bound you Find a dozen strangers round you.

"Hallo," cries the new-born baby, "Where's my parents? which may they be?"

Awkward silence - no reply - Puzzled baby wonders why!

Father rises, bows politely - Mother smiles (but not too brightly) - Doctor mumbles like a dumb thing - Nurse is busy mixing something. - Every symptom tends to show You're decidedly DE TROP - Ho! ho! ho! ho! ho! he! ho! ho!

Time's teetotum, If you spin it, Give its quotum Once a minute: I'll go bail You hit the nail, And if you fail The deuce is in it!

You grow up, and you discover What it is to be a lover.

Some young lady is selected - Poor, perhaps, but well-connected, Whom you hail (for Love is blind As the Queen of Fairy-kind.

Though she's plain - perhaps unsightly, Makes her face up - laces tightly, In her form your fancy traces All the gifts of all the graces.

Rivals none the maiden woo, So you take her and she takes you!

Ho! ho! ho! ho! ho! ho! ho! ho!

Joke beginning, Never ceases, Till your inning Time releases; On your way You blindly stray, And day by day The joke increases!

Ten years later - Time progresses - Sours your temper - thins your tresses; Fancy, then, her chain relaxes; Rates are facts and so are taxes.

Fairy Queen's no longer young - Fairy Queen has such a tongue!

Twins have probably intruded - Quite unbidden - just as you did; They're a source of care and trouble - Just as you were - only double.

Comes at last the final stroke - Time has had his little joke!

Ho! ho! ho! ho! ho! ho! ho! ho!

Daily driven (Wife as drover) Ill you've thriven - Ne'er in clover: Lastly, when Threescore and ten (And not till then), The joke is over!

Ho! ho! ho! ho! ho! ho! ho! ho!

Then - and then The joke is over!

Ballad: Limited Liability

Some seven men form an a.s.sociation (If possible, all Peers and Baronets), They start off with a public declaration To what extent they mean to pay their debts.

That's called their Capital: if they are wary They will not quote it at a sum immense.

The figure's immaterial - it may vary From eighteen million down to eighteenpence.

I should put it rather low; The good sense of doing so Will be evident at once to any debtor.

When it's left to you to say What amount you mean to pay, Why, the lower you can put it at, the better.

They then proceed to trade with all who'll trust 'em, Quite irrespective of their capital (It's shady, but it's sanctified by custom); Bank, Railway, Loan, or Panama Ca.n.a.l.

You can't embark on trading too tremendous - It's strictly fair, and based on common sense - If you succeed, your profits are stupendous - And if you fail, pop goes your eighteenpence.

Make the money-spinner spin!

For you only stand to win, And you'll never with dishonesty be twitted.

For n.o.body can know, To a million or so, To what extent your capital's committed!

If you come to grief, and creditors are craving (For nothing that is planned by mortal head Is certain in this Vale of Sorrow - saving That one's Liability is Limited), - Do you suppose that signifies perdition?

If so you're but a monetary dunce - You merely file a Winding-Up Pet.i.tion, And start another Company at once!

Though a Rothschild you may be In your own capacity, As a Company you've come to utter sorrow - But the Liquidators say, "Never mind - you needn't pay,"

So you start another Company to-morrow!

Ballad: Anglicised Utopia