Beyond question the word which it would be absurd
To apply to these ladies is "pretty."
In the high Gujar huts were but brats and old sluts,
These last being the plainest of women;
Then I sought on the waters the sisters and daughters
Of the Mangis--those "bold, able seamen"
(I have often been told that the Mangi is bold,
And as brave as at least two or three men).
One lady I saw--I am told her papa
In the market did forage and "gram" sell--
Decked all over with rings, necklets, bangles and things,
She appeared a desirable damsel;
And I cried "Oh, Eureka! I've found what I seek:
Tell me quick--Is she 'madam' or 'ma'mselle'?"
It was comical, but to this question I put--
A remarkably innocent query--
I received but a sigh or evasive reply,
Or a blush from the modest Kashmiri;
And I gathered at last that the lady was "fast,"
And her name should be Phryne, not Here.
Toddled up a small tot--her hair tied in a knot--
Who remarked, "I can hardly consider
You've the ghost of a chance on this wild-goosie dance
Unless you should hap on a 'widder!'
For our maidens at ten--ay, and less now and then--
Are all booked to the wealthiest bidder."
"My dear man, it's no use to indulge in abuse
Of our customs, so be not enraged, sir--
No woman a maid is--we're all married ladies.
Our charms very early are caged, sir--
I'm eleven myself," remarked the small elf,
"And a year ago I was engaged, sir!"
Ah, well! The country is the loveliest I ever saw, and that goes far to
make up for its disgusting population.
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