HE Opera Queens, that men have wooed and won, Have loved them for a while, and then—anon, Like snow upon Broadway, with lightsome "touch," Annexed their millions, and alas, have flown! |
H look you, in the long and varied list Of Millionaires thus rifled and dismissed, How, rich man, after rich man, bode his hour, Then went his way, to swell the golden grist. |
HAT Diva's rubies ever glow so red As when some Gilded Chappie hath been bled? And every diamond the Show Girl wears, Dropped in her lap, when some Fool lost his head. |
ND those who hung around the green-room door, And those who backed the Show and paid the score, Alike, to no such "Angels" have been turned, As, once repentant, men feel sorry for. |
H, my Good Fellow, keep the cash, that clears To-day of unpaid debts and future fears. To-morrow! Why, to-morrow, you may be, Yourself, with Yesterday's cast-off millionaires. |