A Beauty Hint

C Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Sweet, think how much the better it would be If you thro' life should thus preserve your beauty. It really doesn't matter much to me; But don't you think you owe the world a duty, And don't you think that thro' some kindly thought - Of me, for instance - beauty were well bought? Those wrinkles on your face, dear, Those bags beneath your eyes Are but the evil trace, dear, Of temper, spite and lies. Why can't you be a saint, dear, Like dear old Joan of Arc; Be pleasant - which you ain't, dear, And do not be a nark. Consider, sweetheart, if you smiled always How much, thro' weeks, your face might be improving; In place of which, in these unhappy days, You go to beauty shops for the removing Of wrinkles, blemishes and ugly warts. Why, when a smile will serve, seek these resorts? Why can't you raise a grin, sweet, And be a little beauty? For ugliness is sin, sweet, And loveliness a duty. So, for my sake, why can't you make An effort to he glad. Just think of me and joyful be; For I am not too bad.

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