O Chansons foregoing
             You were a seven days’ wonder.
             When you came out in the magazines
             You created considerable stir in Chicago,
             And now you are stale and worn out,
             You’re a very depleted fashion,
             A hoop—skirt, a calash,
             An homely, transient antiquity.
             Only emotion remains.
             Your emotions?
                              Are those of a maitre—de—cafe.

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