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Yes! I know Madame She asked for me And she's a millionaire But I hate her smell. You said yourself the last time she was in 'Twas like a polecat— An' she's got sunken tubs to every chamber, I heard her tell it— A facial! And curl her hair! Gawd! The thermometer's a hundred. You say If I don't do it I can go! Where'd I go in August?. . . No I wouldn't, That's where you get off. This way Mrs. Smith There's a breeze that's blowing by this window. Let me have your hat, Sailors are so smart with linen suits.