On Her Departure for Calais.

When little people go abroad, wherever they may roam,

They will not just be treated as they used to be at home;

So take a few promiscuous hints, to warn you in advance,

Of how a little English girl will perhaps be served in France.

Of course you will be Frenchified; and first, it’s my belief,

They’ll dress you in their foreign style as à-la-mode as beef,

With a little row of beehives, as a border to your frock,

And a pair of frilly trousers, like a little bantam cock.

But first they’ll seize your bundle (if you have one) in a crack,

And tie it with a tape by way of bustle on your back;

And make your waist so high or low, your shape will be a riddle,

For anyhow you’ll never have your middle in the middle.

Your little English sandals for a while will hold together,

But woe betide you when the stones have worn away the leather;

For they’ll poke your little pettitoes (and there will be a hobble!)

In such a pair of shoes as none but carpenters can cobble!

What next? — to fill your head with French to match the native girls,

In scraps of Galignani they’ll screw up your little curls;<............