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When first you came before my eyes

Who are you, rampaging stranger

Who'll Have Me.

A Widow.

The Widow.

The Widower.

A Wife for Old Nick.

Windy Day.

Windy Day.

With the most ugly of all faces, Go on, and mimic all the graces

Woman's Rights.

Woman's Rights.

Worldly Evils.

Would-Be Hero.

Would-Be Woman.

The Wounded Soldier.

You and Your Beau.

You are my Darling.

You are my Valentine.

You belong to the Sappers and Miners, `tis said

You dashing, dressy Bar-keeper, for a dandy you would pass

You don't look handsome in your regimentals

You doubtless think that prudence is a virtue

You fat old cuss, give us your grub

You go in for the largest liberty

You love the contrabands too much

You may sing psalms with sanctimonious face

You may swagger and blow, but people all know

You Puppy.

You sneaking, mean, soulless knave

You stingy, shrivel'd, wrinkled, close-skin'd skin-flint

You talk so much of what you'll do

You think your style is just the thing

You think yourself both bold and brave, of course

You ugly, cross and wrinkled shrew

The Young Flirt.

The Young Mother.

Your Likeness.

Your Own Portrait.

Your True Love.

Your Wife's the Boss.

You're a gay old Colonel, that's beyond a doubt

You're a gay Zoovey Zoo, with that big beard of thine

You're a sweet looking sailor boy, gallant and bold

You're all aflame with woman's rights

You're not so bad looking as some I know

You're to the soldiers quite a flunkey

A Zouave.

A Zouave.

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