A young lady of Aldershot was when it rained, And a regiment of soldiers going over the plain. Popped into a place, just for shelter they took, The whole regiment stood under her hooped petticoat! Good people, beware! as you pass through the streets, If a girl with a crinoline you chance for to meet, Take care as you ramble along in a group, Or, you may get caught in a hooped petticoat. There was a sweet duchess a lap dog had got, She had lost it one morning and cried such a lot, But oh, lack-aday, she beheld in a group, A bitch and nine pups in her hooped petticoat. They say that the queen has a crinoline on, And so has Prince Albert and buxom Lord John, We expect to see Palmerston next week afloat, Strutting up round May Fair in a hooped petticoat. H. DISLEY, Printer, 57, High Street, St. Giles. THE SUPPRESSION OF CRINOLINE. _Tune_--“A KISS AND NOTHING MORE.” Good people give attention, and listen to my rhyme, I’ll sing about the fashions that’s in vogue the present time, The ladies now have bustles, now don’t they cut it fine, With their dandy hat and feathers, and fancy crinoline? As I walked through the streets, not many days ago, I met a girl who said, she was looking for a beau, She invited me to go with her, I said I did not mind; She looked just like a lady, dressed up in a crinoline. She took me to a splendid house, with cushions on the chairs, She treated me to brandy--and took me up the stairs, She undressed me so kindly, and said she would be mine; But I cursed the hour I admired her handsome crinoline. I had a splendid watch and chain, I’d gold and silver, too, But in the morning when I woke I scarce knew what to do, For in the middle of the night, after treating me so kind, She stole my money, watch and clothes, and left me her crinoline. There’s a pretty bobbin winder, they call her Mary Jane, She’s courting a snob! so help my bob, that lives in ---- lane; Last Sunday afternoon, she thought to cut it fine, With the hoop of her mother’s washing tub, she made a crinoline. I knew a steam loom weaver so cunning and so sly, She had got a hump upon her back, and she squints with one eye, She works at ---- factory, her name is Anne O’Brian, Her smock’s as black as a chimney back and wears a crinoline. There’s a woman lives up ---- road, they call her mother ----, She wants to buy a crinoline, to wear underneath her gown? But her husband would not let her, and when she was confined, She had a son mark’d on the bum, with a lady’s crinoline! London:--H. SUCH, Printer, 123, Union Street, Boro’, and at 83, White Cross Street, St. Luke’s. THE DOWNFALL OF CHIGNONS. [Illustration]