"But, mamma, now, " said Charlotte, "pray, don't you believe <br />That I'm better than Jenny, my nurse? <br />Only see my red shoes, and the lace on my sleeve; <br />Her clothes are a thousand times worse. <br /> <br />"I ride in my coach, and have nothing to do, <br />And the country folks stare at me so; <br />And nobody dares to control me but you <br />Because I'm a lady, you know. <br /> <br />"Then, servants are vulgar, and I am genteel; <br />So really, 'tis out of the way, <br />To think that I should not be better a deal <br />Than maids, and such people as they. " <br /> <br />"Gentility, Charlotte," her mother replied, <br />"Belongs to no station or place; <br />And there's nothing so vulgar as folly and pride, <br />Though dress'd in red slippers and lace. <br /> <br />Not all the fine things that fine ladies possess <br />Should teach them the poor to despise; <br />For 'tis in good manners, and not in good dress, <br />That the truest gentility lies."<br /><br />Ann Taylor<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-vulgar-little-lady/
