A dandy, on a velocipede,
I saw in a vision sweet,
Along the highway making speed,
With his alternate feet.
Of a bright and celestial hue
Gleam’d beauteously his blue surtout;
While ivory buttons, in a row,
Show’d like the winter’s cavern ‘d snow.
Which the breezy North
Drives sweeping forth,
To lodge in the cave below:
Ontario’s beaver, without demur,
To form his hat did lend its fur:
His frill was of the cambric fine,
And his neckcloth starch’d, and aquiline;
And oh, the eye with pleasure dwells
On his white jean indescribables;
And he throws the locks from his forehead fair,
And he pants, and pants, and pants for air,
What is the reason I cannot tell, ,
There is a cause , I know it well;
Too firmly bound , too tightly braced,
The corsets grasp his spider waist,
Till his coat tails are made to fly
Even from the back they glorify.
Look again, he is not there ,
Vanish’d into the misty air!
Look again! , do ye see him yet?
Ah no! the bailiff hath seized him for debt;
And, to and fro, like a restless ghost,
When peace within the grave is lost,
He paces as far, as far he should,
Within the bounds of Holyrood!

Quoted from: Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine. May 1821, Vol. IX. No. L.