Superficial Culture

I'll tell of a certain old dame; The same Had a beautiful piggy, whose name Was James; and whose beauty and worth, From the day of his birth, Were matters of popular fame, And his claim To gentility no one could blame.

So, seeing his promise, she thought She ought To have him sufficiently taught The art Of deportment, to go Into company; so A master of dancing she brought, Who was fraught With a style which the piggiwig caught.

So his company manners were rare. His care Of social observances there Would bear The closest inspection, And not a reflection Could rest on his actions, howe'er You might care To examine 'em down to a hair.

Now, things went beau-ti-ful-ly, Till he Fell in love with a dame of degree; Pardie! When he tried for to speak, But could only say, "O w-e-e-k!" For, whatever his polish might be, Why, dear me! He was pig at the bottom, you see.

H. PYLE.