A Young Soubrette

I fell in love with a gay soubrette,

     And she fell in love with me;

At least so she said, but objected to wed,

     “Because I’m too young,” said she.

I followed the show from town to town,

     And sat in the baldheaded row;

And waited in fear for fully a year,

     For my little soubrette to grow.

I covered her fingers with costly rings,

     I dined her in lavish style;

Till at length I became fatigued of the game,

     When I saw the low state of my pile.

The night I proposed – I ne’er can forget!

     She kicked the hat off from my head;

But my love it did smother, for she was the mother

     Of the leading lady, they said!

July 5, ‘96

Pub. in N.Y. Sun Herald,

    Nov. 15, 1896