THE DANDY'S LAMENT.
{"newspaper_name": "The Washingtonian.", "edition": "01", "page": "p1", "byline": ""}
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No whiskers yet no whiskers yet!


And Toms pair so black and stout!
In vain sigh-in vain fret


In.vain l try to coax them out!
lvow I'm twenty-one or nearly,


And nothing yet upon my chin,
Except crop Of fi,z, which yearly


Seems to grow more frail and thin!
No whiskers yet and no moustache!


Although without fault my hair;
Not cen poor imperial,


To stamp me with foreign air
With Beals and Jones I've spent enough,
Besides fortune with Gouraud;
I've found out. to my cost, their stuff


Is all humbug, and no go!
No whiskers yet no whiskers yet!


Good heavens, what can the matter be :!
While every belle makes Tom a pet,


They make no bones Of sighting me.
Twill never do, as Pm alive


Ishall be cut by all the "ton,'
Unless | get whisker false,


And stick sham imperial on.
Egad I'll do it. and why not?
For, if the whisker makes the man,
Why won't false one do as well


AS any? Answer me who can!
I'll do it then I'll cut a swell!


And since to Fame the once rough road
Is paved with hair. We gods then


Shall be lion ala mode.