Superficial Culture
by
I’ll tell of a certain old dame;
The same
Had a beautiful piggy, whose name
Was James;
and whose beauty and worth,
From the day of his birth,
Were matters of popular fame,
And his claim
To gentility no one could blame.
So, seeing his promise, she thought
She ought
To have him sufficiently taught
The art
Of deportment, to go
Into company; so
A master of dancing she brought,
Who was fraught
With a style which the piggiwig caught.
So his company manners were rare.
His care
Of social observances there
Would bear
The closest inspection,
And not a reflection
Could rest on his actions, howe’er
You might care
To examine ’em down to a hair.
Now, things went beau-ti-ful-ly,
Till he
Fell in love with a dame of degree;
Pardie!
When he tried for to speak,
But could only say, “O w-e-e-k!”
For, whatever his polish might be,
Why, dear me!
He was pig at the bottom, you see.
H. PYLE.