Ain't that nice of
him?
Gee, but that's going to be the grand doings.
Are you going to the ball?
Say, the round of festivities I am pulling off lately would make a
person think I was a society bud.
Oh, come closer, listen. A certain party wants me to go out in
vaudeville. What do you know about that? Can you see me doing two-a-day
and getting in a contest with Eva Tanguay or Vesta Victoria or the
Russell Brothers. I would go in a minute, though I promised mother when
I quit burlesque that I would never again wear tights.
When I was in the business if I couldn't get a job on my voice all I had
to do was to flash a photo taken as Captain of the High Jinks Cadets,
and then--in a minute.
Flo. Ziegfield made me all kinds of offers to go in the "Soul Kiss," but
the blondes were all full, and you can see me in a brindle wig?
I am willing to sacrifice nearly anything for Art, but when it comes to
leaving nineteen dollars' worth of puffs in a dressing room where you
can't pick your company, not for little Sabrina.
I used to have trouble enough with my number eighteen and lip stick and
the bunch of near-lady kleptomaniacs that the manager made a great
mistake taking on the road in the last show I was with.
Well, to get back to vaudeville, I don't know whether to do a single
turn or put on a big act with a dancing scene or a prizefight in it.
Those things go big nowadays.
I could get the music publishers to slip me a little on the side for
using their songs, too.
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