How many, dresses ladies wear,
In all of which pride has a share,
The morning dishabille appears,
And answers well for household cares;
But more complat and full attire,
Their walks and afternoon's require,
To worship the Great God of heaven,
more richly dressed one day in seven
But when in parties they appear,
A finer dress they choose to weare;
And when to Ballrooms they advance
And join the lively giddy dance
More gaudy dress becomes the scene,
Where sashes wave and spangles gleam.
But soon the sprightly hours are past
For pleasure cannot always last.
A cold insues and sickness comes,
Disorder seates upon the lungs;
A chamber dress is now put on,
Nor changed at morn or evening sun
But mortal sickness soon is o'er
The lady needs but one dress more.
signed "JB" or "FB"