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Show LAMENT OF THE SOCIETY LEADER. It really's most distressing When one's affluent and proud To think he must associate With such a frightful crowd. Time was when high society The awful crush excluded, And into our four-hundred-say Outsiders ne'er intruded. And, goodness knows, the attitude Of that four hundred toward one The friendship of so many folk Unconscionably bored one. But in a Rip Van Winkle sleep A few short years I drowse, and Awake to find the list has grown To something past a thousand! Exclusive! Bah! A thousand who Must come to one's cotillion, Athousand one must know among A paltry ninety million! The press at functions nowadays Is more than one can uttah; One might as well seek pleasure in The Black Hole of Calcutta. I really think I must rebel And form a new list, giving The people whose acquaintance make Life really worth the living. Of course I'd leave out every one Save those possessed of pelf; In fact well, on the list I place Nobody but myself. James Montague, in New York American. |