The Lexington intelligencer. [volume] (Lexington, Mo.) 1901-1949, 1910-03-19
THE N AT THE FAIR
(BY ]. L. MARSHALL)

BY ]. L. MARSHALL)
Come stand in the doorway wei borrow a glass,
And look at the beaux and bellies as they dance,
See this as the ball room, an elegant place,
With the people coupled like hounds for a chase,
Now waiting the music, a famous brass band
That opens like hounds, when the fox is at hand.
See that young stripping as mincing he moves,
With his sweet scented kerchief and white kid gloves,
Who ambitious of nothing hut trying to please,
Robs the rat of his musk and the bear of his grease,
The industrious beaver, has toled for his hat.
And the silk worm has died in his handsome eravat,
Thus the bear and the beaver, and insect he blends
While his kids make him merry with prodigal friends.
Well that is young Pateless, a sprig just from college,
Where it cost his papa a cool thousand for knowledge
For knowledge to live ON the interest of debt
For knowledge to bluff and at faro to bet
To drink a strong cocktail without ever winkmg
To do most anything, other than thinking
To curse and to swear, in a staggering tone,
But still the sole s~heepskin he has as his own;
Then look at the girl whom he softly addresses
Her blooming cheeks and her fair auburn tresses,
But her form to describe would be as hard for us,
To Judge from the tent of the size of the circus
By the size of a chicken from seeing its coop,
Or the brand of flour by feeling the hoop.
We read Of a race of theological donkies,
Who worship and reverence balloons and monkeys,
While the priests and p%ontiffs their prisons patter.
AAO NlAehlo hAOAANg UoNS NUHAAS bub NAdbbNl
For this ~chattering idol a fame they erect,
With domes and freScoes, oriels decked
But vast as it is there is nothing within,
Save the anchorite God with his comical grin.
We have often thought-don't fly in a passion,
Ye queens of the balls, We fair mirrors of fashion
That when a young girl is puffed out of shape,
Her dress is the temple, herself is the ape.
Behold that young gent with yellow mustaches
His face like a egg-shell half covered with ashes,
His nanta1Oone mada nf that hieolored sfuff
His shoes are buttoned and laced, and in color to snuff,
His collar so stiff seems to stand or to hang high,
While his coat hangs like feathers of a Shanghai.
1t is Baselduke Swellhead a very nice fellow,
Who is green in the morning at night he is mellow,
Beside him Matilda mods her head like the willow,
She would look like a lily that blooms in the meadow
Her cheeks are blushing with blossoms and roses,
Which will be washed off when the dance closes,
Her brow is as pure as the cancave of heaven,
! Her eye is as bright as the star of the even
How softly it beams through the dark silken lashes
Such a different touch from that fellows mustaches.
Then there is that sweet little girl in a bodice
She smiles like an angel and looks like a goddess
She never opens her mouth without dropping a pearl,
Like that kind hearted maiden the fairy-best girl
Whose sister nee'r spoke without dropping a lizard,
The lady we speak of is known as Miss lizard.
That man in black clothes and spOdes eravat,
Is a preacher Well then you will say what of that9
Oh nothing at all, for the Parkers and Beechers
Though very bad men, still were very good preachers;
Well not dispute whether tbs right or It's wrong,
But It's hard to resist midst so giddy a throng,
Some things we do when among strangers alone,
We'd roundly condemn where we are known,
Its ruled by conditions as to where we're at"
These were our cogitations while musing we sat,
Say what you may or think as you might,
The whirl of that dance was a temptacious sight
Nov unto you we can t~ruthfully swear,
That is Just the way it went on at the Dance at the Fair