Though Houris are handsome, though lovely the place—
More lovely perhaps than our own country seat—
I never could see, in the light of free grace
What pleasure they have there with nothing to eat.

With nothing to wear, if the climate is suiting,
We might get along I am sure pretty well;
No washing and starching and crimping and fluting,
No muslin and laces and trouble of dressing, they tell,
E'er troubles the women, or bothers the men,
Who soon grow accustomed, as people do here,
To fashions prevailing, and things that they ken;
To dresses fore-shortened where bosoms appear;
To bonnets that show but a rose in the wearing;
To dresses that sweep like a besom the street;
To dresses so gauzy the hoops through are seen;
To shoes quite as gauzy to cover the feet;
But watch how a man here goes raving and swearing,
At wife and all hands, if they've nothing to eat!