Soubrette,
My
pet,
I
cannot forget.
Although
you have gone,
And
I am forlorn,
Your
presence so sweet,
And
the things that you eat,
And
my old pocketbook,
Now
sorely forsook,
And
the thousand things more,
As
I run them o’er,
I
cannot forget,
My
pet,
Soubrette.
July
26, 1895
B.
Courier,
Nov.
10, ‘95
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