"Ah! my poor mamma, you no longer know what it is to be young.

If I'm not beautiful, at all events I'm young; my eyes are clear and my lips are fresh.

And my hair's so long too, and I've so much of it that it would suffice to gown me if I chose.

You see, one's never ugly when one's young.

Whereas, my poor mamma, everything is ended when one gets old.