What’s that skipping to and fro?
Hid-dy, hod-dy, Dandy Beau.
Eye-glass ready
For each lady,
And e-legance to show—
Hid-dy, hod-dy, are you there?
How you make the la-dies stare;
See they smile now,
All the while now,
Hod-dy, dandy, oh beware!

Still they wonder, still they gaze
What can so the ladies please?
Now I have it,
‘Tis his cravat,
Tied so nice with taste and ease;
Squeezed up tight in stays, he tries
To attract the ladies eyes—
Hid-dy, hod-dy,
Dandy body,
You won’t do, you’re not the size.

Every day he changes clothes,
Hid-dy, hod-dy, flirting goes;
All frivolity,
Aping quality,
Lilliputian prince of beaux!
Stature under five feet two!
Hid-dy, hod-dy, struts to woo—
Vastly witty,
Tight and pretty,
High-heeled boots, but all won’t do.

Hod-dy, dandy, modern beau!
Can you tempt the ladies so?
Tip of fashion,
Raising passion,
As you haunt them to and fro.
Promenading through the streets,
Hid-dy, hod-dy, when he meets
Little misses,
Pants for kisses,
As their jeering smiles he meets.

At the concert or the play,
Hid-dy, hod-dy, struts so gay,
Box or lattice,
All his chat is,
“Charming ‘pon my soul, he, he:”
How it makes me laugh to see,
Perched upon a lady’s knee,
Hid-dy, hod-dy,
Little body,
Ha, ha, ha, ha, he, he, he.

From: Cyclopaedia of songs and recitations. London, 1853.