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- Bred in distant woods, the clown
- Brings all his country airs to town;
- The odd address, with awkward grace,
- That bows with half-averted face;
- The half-heard compliments, whose note
- Is swallow'd in the trembling throat;
- The stiffen'd gait, the drawling tone,
- By which his native place is known;
- The blush, that looks by vast degrees,
- Too much like modesty to please;
- The proud displays of awkward dress,
- That all the country fop express:
- The suit right gay, though much belated,
- Whose fashion's superannuated;
- The watch, depending far in state,
- Whose iron chain might form a grate;
- The silver buckle, dread to view,
- O'ershadowing all the clumsy shoe;
- The white-gloved hand, that tries to peep
- From ruffle, full five inches deep;
- With fifty odd affairs beside,
- The foppishness of country pride.
- Poor Dick! though first thy airs provoke
- The obstreperous laugh and scornful joke
- Doom'd all the ridicule to stand,
- While each gay dunce shall lend a hand;
- Yet let not scorn dismay thy hope
- To shine a witling and a fop.
- Blest impudence the prize shall gain,
- And bid thee sigh no more in vain.
- Thy varied dress shall quickly show
- At once the spendthrift and the beau.
- With pert address and noisy tongue,
- That scorns the fear of prating wrong
- 'Mongst listening coxcombs shalt thou shine,
- And every voice shall echo thine.
- John Trumbull
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