WEEKLY WHIMS.

Observer, Volume 6, Issue 142, 2 June 1883, Page 169

WEEKLY WHIMS.

" Tou cati. allue fetch, the British. Public with a top note." —Maccabe " Only a barmaid," so they say, A girl -who sells her smiles for pay, . Whose life is frolicsome and gay, Whose daily work is merely play. Only a girl who weaves her net For brainless men and drunken boys, Only a girl who's paid to whet Her lovers' thirst with arn'rous joys. Only a barmaid, paid to bear ". With every sodden brute's behest; Only a barmaid, paid to wear A smile for every filthy jest. Only a wanton painted thing, Only a, trap another sets, . Only a girl to laugh and- sing, And sin for what her master gets. Only a barmaid, paid to lend Her form to every man's embrace ; Only a barmaid, paid to bend Her cheek to every drunkard's face. Only a padded, powdered lure, Only a girl with many loves, Flattering every silly cur For trinkets, drinks, or pairs of gloves. Only a barmaid, free and bold, Only a thing that's bought and sold; Only a barmaid, false and cold, Only a heart that beats for gold. Only a barmaid, paid to smile And chatter all the live-long day ; Only a barmaid, trained to guile, And paid to steal men's hearts away. For men are fools with girls, we know, And like to have a pretty friend ; But with men's hearts their purses go, And so she serves her master's end. So says the careless world, which thinks 'Tis easy work to serve out drinks, To smile at you, to wink at mc, And laugh with counterfeited glee. Only a barmaid, come with mc And see her when her work is done ; Only a barmaid, come and see Her when she's silent and alone. Can this pale face be that which now Was wreathed in smiles from lip to brow ; These heavy eyes, with tear-drops bright, The same that danced with glee to-night ? This tired, drooping, aching head, Which weighs upon her hand like lead, Can scarce be that which just before j As proudly as a stag she bore. This weary, stooping, languid frame, j It is not, cannot be, the same That just now sped from place to place With Bupple, winning, careless grace. This is the brainless, silly flirt, Whose feelings nothing seemed to hurt 5 This is that flaunting, giddy quean, We see the truth behind the scene. Only a barmaid, yet she sighs, . When thinking o'er her ruined life ; Only a barmaid, yet she cries For respite from the grovelling strife. Only a barmaid, yet she thinks With loathing on the life she's led ; Only a barmaid, yet she sinks In tears upon her wretched bed. Only a barmaid, yet she dreams Of home and friends, forever lost; Only a barmaid, yet she se.ems So hopeless when she counts the cost. Only a sullied page of life, Only a barmaid dead to shame, Only an atom in the strife, Only a girl with tarnished fame. Only a woman, treat her fair : She lives in sadness more than joy; Only a woman, try to care More for her than a worthless toy. Penny Whistle.