I wonder what there is in me
That makes folks smile as I go by.
My air is good, my clothes fit well;
They cannot think I am a guy.
And yet they smile. How very rude!
I may have faults; but I'm a Dude.
They are not Dudes themselves. Ah, there
The trouble is. We Dudes are born;
We stir the envy of the throng,
To which, thank Heav'n, we don't belong.
Not of the vulgar multitude
Are we. Who would not be a Dude?
It is my comfort and my pride
To know that what I am I am.
And what we are - what are we
Anyhow? By Jove, I'd have to cram
To learn; and learning's not my mood.
Who learns can never be a Dude.
I know I have no brains -
They must be very hard to get -
And brains would never, never take
In our select, exclusive set.
We care for better things, imbued
With all that glorifies the Dude.
The german I can lead; I bang
My hair; I wear my trousers tight;
I dote on Chambertin; I hate
To read or think;' I pass the night
At clubs; in short, I love the nude,
Though Art is not the dudest Dude.
To be a Dude is my whole aim.
A Dude is chic, is nobby swell,
To feel that Life's a dreadful bore,
Creation's self an awful sell.
The swellest thing, from our point of view'd,
Is to recede from Man to Dude.
- Junius Henri Browne.
New York, April 5, 1883.
The Evening Star (Washington DC), April 11, 1883, page 7.
Robert Sale-Hill’s poem, The True Origin and History of “The Dude” (The New York World, January 14, 1883) introduced the world to the word Dude, and kicked off a full-on Dude craze. A-Dude-a-Day[i] Blog is dedicated to preserving and sharing pics, pieces and poems from the early days of the Dude-craze of 1883. You can read more about the history and origin of the word Dude on my blogpost, "Dudes, Dodos and Fopdoodles" on my other blog, Early Sports 'n' Pop-Culture History Blog.