Under the Clock.
(AN ACTOR’S SONG.)
[“For the remainder of cast see Under the Clock.”—Theatrical advertisement.]
“
NDER the Clock,” with the rank and file,
That’s where you have to look for me;
That is the End of the Century style—
Vide the “ads.” in the great D. T.
Well, I suppose we can’t all be starred,
So the special “ad.” ’s for the finer flock,
And the common sheep, though it’s rather hard,
Are huddled together “Beneath the Clock.”
I do my best in my humble way
When I’m cast for a part that is known as “small”;
For the minor parts in a high-class play
May help in its “making,” after all.
And so when I’m placed below the salt,
It gives my pride just a passing shock,
And I own some day I should like to vault
Up to the “stars” from “Beneath the Clock.”
Actors’ vanity! Yes, you’re right!
Though I’d rather you called it artists’ pride—
It’s the battle of life in the mimic fight
On the boards where so many have fought and died—
On the world’s great stage, where they’re players all,
And they feel the pains that we only mock;
To a favoured few must the “star” “ads.” fall,
The rest are only “Beneath the Clock.”
The Girl of Forty-seven.
OND lover, when you come to woo,
And whisper nothings tender,
And try to span, as lovers do,
A waist that once was slender,
Be not upset if curt rebuff
Your amorous joy should leaven;
That sort of thing is apt to huff
The girl of forty-seven.