Flappers flicker and flap and flirt,

Hip flasks flame and flash and fly,

Gay tints glimmer beneath each skirt—

Stocking tops go not that high.

Silks and satins take the eye,

Flimsy fabrics that cling and stay

Molding the contours daintily—

But where are the drawers of yesterday?

Step-ins, bloomers and panties all,

Combinations hold brief sway—

Not less easily do they fall—

But where are the drawers of yesterday?