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6. the swell's Soliloquy on the war.

I don't appwove this hawid waw;
     Those dweadful bannahs hawt my eyes;
And guns and dwums are such a baw,--
     Why don't the pawties compwamise?

Of cawce, the twoilet has its chawms;
     But why must all the vulgah cwowd
Pawsist in spawting unifawms
     In cullaws so extremely loud?

And then the ladies — pwecious deahs!--
     I mawk the change on ev'wy bwow;
Bai Jove! I weally have my feahs
     They wathah like the hawid wow!

To heah the chawming cweatures talk,
     Like patwons of the bloody wing,
Of waw and all its dawty wawk,--
     It doesn't seem a pwappah thing!

I called at Mrs. Gweene's last night,
     To see her niece, Miss Mawy Hertz,
And found her making — cwushing sight!--
     The weddest kind of flannel shirts!

Of cawce I wose and sought the daw,
     With fewy flashing from my eyes!
I can't appwove this hawid waw;--
     Why don't the pawties compwamise?

--Vanity Fair.

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