Nothing to Wear.
Toby Simpson, a dealer most worthy and just,
Slowly wended his way through the rattle and dust
Of the city. He mused on the cholera scare,
On his relative chance as a wheat or a tare
In the prophesied raid. Then he mumbled a prayer,
And each mud hole he eyed seemed a villainous snare,
While his conscience said, solemnly, “Simpson, beware!”
On the strength of a limited balance in cash
He had planned for himself and his family a dash
To the mountains, the seaside, it mattered not where;
To delay any longer was more than he dare;
Some relief must be had from the terrible flare
Of the midsummer sun, which would surely impair
The good health of Dame Simpson, now cross as a bear.
’Twas quite late in July and old Sol was aglow,
All the people had gone who had money to go
From the city to seek a few sniffs of fresh air,
And forgot for a season their burdens of care;
Then no wonder Dame Simpson was heard to declare
That the Joneses looked up with an insolent stare,
As she stood at her window exposed to the glare.
But her husband that ev’ning when rising from tea,
With his hands full of tickets and heart full of glee,
Quite as proud as a lion could be in its lair,
Shouted out: “To the Capes, yes, to-morrow, prepare,
I’ve engaged jolly quarters and paid all the fare!”
To which mother and daughters, with mock debonair,
Chorused forth: “Why, dear papa, we’ve nothing to wear!”
With a look most bewildered he clutched at a tray,
For his mercantile courage was oozing away,
And his features were grim ’neath his carroty hair;
Twenty bills he had paid for goods costly and rare
For those females! and now could not possibly spare
An additional stamp. Unaccustomed to swear,
It was startling to hear him say: “Darned if it’s fair!”
In an eight by ten office, half sweltered with heat,
Sat T. Simpson, the jobber. He gazed at his feet
Which reposed on a desk, just in front of his chair,
While his face was dejected and full of despair;
And he owed not a cent; his accounts were all square—
No, not that, but the problem of Nothing to Wear
Was just why the poor fellow sat pondering there.