What The Soubrette Did

I threw a rose, she picked it up,

     And pinned it you know where;

Then sang and danced it seemed to me

     More chic and debonair.

I threw a rose, she threw a kiss,

     Methinks I had her brown;

But when I tried to pick her up,

     She simply threw me down.

Nov. 10, ‘96

Camb’ Times,

  Oct. 8, ’97