i sing of mrs. tomkins-smythe,

and mrs. gibson-brown;

two ladies resident within

a square, near camden town.

good neighbours they had been, and friends,

for twenty years, or more;

the tomkins-smythes they lived at "6,"

the gibson-browns at "4."

'twas in that season of the year

when drapers' bargain sales

do fascinate the female mind,

and vex the married males.

an illustrated catalogue

arrived at "number 4,"

which mrs. gibson-brown took in

to show her friend next door.

"my dear!" she cried in eager tones,

"such bargains! gracious me!

here's this reduced from two-and-six

to one eleven-three!

"and those which you remember, dear,

we thought so very nice,

they're selling off at really an

alarming sacrifice!"

"those remnants—" mrs. tomkins-smythe

remained to hear no more;

she jabbed her bonnet on with pins,

and hurried to the door.

a tram, a 'bus, the tupp'ny tube,

and they were quickly there;

and joining in the buzzing crowd

of other ladies fair.

they pulled at this, they tugged at that,

they turned and tumbled those;

and pushed, and crowded with the best,

and trod on people's toes.

they glared at other buyers, and

forestalled them—when they could;

and behaved, indeed, exactly,

as at sales all ladies should.

till with heavy parcels laden,

breathless, but with keen delight,

they beheld the remnant counter

("second turning to the right.")

and (alas! how small a matter

may entirely change life's view)

both in the self-same instant

saw a remnant—navy blue.

they each reached out to take it.

"'tis mine!" they both did cry.

"i saw it first, my dearest love."

"no, darling, it was i."

"my remnant, and i'll buy it!"

"indeed? i think you won't!"

"pooh! madame, i will have it!"

"i'll see, ma'am, that you don't!"

and thus, and thus—oh, woesome sight—

they quarrelled, nor would stop

until the shopwalker he came

and turned them from the shop.

* * *

they never made the quarrel up,

and now, with icy stare,

they pass each other in the street

with noses in the air.