A Sermon Poem by William Hutton

Of all the gay fashions the Ladies pursue,
We hold that the worst which keeps beauty from view;
For how can those charms strike the heart with surprize
Which ever continue eclips'd from the eyes:
Then surely the hat must be out of its place
Which skips from the crown, and which creeps down the face;
While the top, like a sun-dial, points to the star,
The bottom's descending twelve inches too far.

If a lover should find himself smitten within,
It can be from no other part but her chin.
She gives up a beautiful face, it is said,
That she may deck out the back part of her head;
And hides all the charms of her eyes and her face
To shew fifteen ribbons, with flounces and lace.
'Tis Nature inverted, for ne'er was the back,
Instead of the fore-part, design'd to attack.
Bright guineas, bright eyes, and bright di'monds, we own,
Are useless in darkness, but sterling when shewn.

With pads and with rollers, and cushions plac'd o'er,
Her head becomes just twice as tall as before.
Like two-headed Monsters shall ladies appear!
And baldly attack us with tier over tier.
Whene'er we attempt the fair charmers to view,
We're pleas'd with one head, but disgusted with two.

At Melbourn, a Methodist preacher, we find,
Held forth, quite regardless of North or East wind;
For when we've determin'd a scheme to compleat,
We seldom resign it for cold or for heat.

Our intrepid champion, elate with success,
Made this bold remark on the ladies head-dress:

'The pride of our females all bound'ry exceeds;
'Tis now quite the fashion to wear double heads.
Approaching this town to disburse heav'nly treasure,
I pass'd by a head that would fill a strike measure.
If I'd had that measure but close by my side,
I certainly should the experiment tried.

By sins a man's said to be cover'd all o'er,
With bruises, and many a putrefied sore;
From the sole of his foot to his crown they aspire,
But the sins of a woman rise half a yard higher.'