Page:Ballads of a Bohemian.djvu/106

104 I’ve run with you the scale from Heav’n to Hell. Paris, I love you still… good-by, good-by. Thus it all ends–unhappily, alas! It’s time to sleep, and now… blow out the gas.…

Now there's that little midinette ''Who goes to work each morning daily; ''I choose to call her Blithe Babette, ''Because she’s always humming gaily; ''And though the Goddess “Comme-il-faut” ''May look on her with prim expression, ''It’s Pagan Paris where, you know, ''The queen of virtues is Discretion.

Three gentlemen live close beside me– A painter of pictures bizarre, A poet whose virtues might guide me, A singer who plays the guitar; And there on my lintel is Cupid; I leave my door open, and yet These gentlemen, aren't they stupid! They never make love to Babette.

I go to the shop every morning; I work with my needle and thread; Silk, satin and velvet adorning,