This day is call'd the feast of St Georgina.

She that outlives this day, and comes safe home,

Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd,

And rouse her at the name of St Georgina.

She that shall live this day, and see old age,

Will yearly on the vigil feast her neighbours,

And say 'To-morrow is Saint Georgina.'

Then will she strip her sleeve and show her bits,

And say 'These bits I had on Georgina's day.'

Old folks forget; yet all shall be forgot,

But she'll remember, with advantages,

What feasts she did that day. Then shall our names,

Familiar in her mouth as household words-

Tina the Tart, Gayle and Polly,

Wendy and Janyce, Sandy and Marcia -

Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb'red.

This story shall the good woman teach her sons;

And St Georgina's shall ne'er go by,

From this day to the ending of the world,

But we in it shall be remembered-

We few, we happy few, we band of sisters;

For she to-day that eats and drinks with me

Shall be my sister; be she ne'er so vile,

This day shall gentle her condition;

And gentlefolk in England now-a-bed

Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,

And hold their naughty parts cheap whiles any speaks