Nightly, a world-known painter came.
Here, once reveled a popular wit,
There, a composer, now rich and fat,
Here, a diva—just think of that!—
Flirted and laughed, ’neath a home-made hat!
Where are they now? Who knows? Alas!
Dining, perhaps, in a dinner coat,
Sipping champagne from a rich man’s glass—
For Success sits not at the table d’hote.
But what does it matter to us, I say!