THE MANAGER'S COMPLAINT
She danced among the unfinished ways
That merge into the Strand,
A maid whom none could fail to praise,
And very few withstand.
A sylph, accepted for the run,
Not at a weekly wage;
Fair as a star when only one
Is shining on the stage.
She met a lord, and all men know
How soon she'd done with me;
Now she is in Debrett, oh, and,
That's where they all would be!
