Come, muster your pleasantest smile, my dear,
And put on your prettiest gown.
Forget about Jack for a while, my dear,
His lordship has just come to town.
He's come here to get him a wife, my dear,
And you have been put up for sale
With a marvellous income for life, my dear,
To balance your side of the scale.
His lordship is feeble and old, my dear,—
What odds? All the sooner he'll die.
And he has a sore need of your gold, my dear:
See the good you can do if you'll try.
And then a real lady you'll be, my dear,
Not only by nature but name;
Mamma'll be so proud,—you can see, my dear,
No one thinks it, as you do, a shame.
So bend your proud head. Are you faint, my dear?
Keep the tears back, be buoyant and brave.
Keep that pose! Now a portrait we'll paint, my dear,
To be called "The American Slave."