I wonder how it happens Im the winner
Of so much sweetness. But I think youre thinner;
Youre like a bag of feathers on my knee.
Why, Lotta child, youre almost strangling me.
Im glad youre going out this afternoon.
The days are getting short, and Im so tied
At the Court Theatre my poor little bride
Has not much junketing I fear, but soon
Ill ask our manager to grant a boon.
To-night, perhaps, Ill get a pass for you,
And when I go, why Lotta can come too.
Now dinner, Love. I want some onion
soup
To whip me up till that rehearsals over.
You know its odd how some women can stoop!
Fraeulein Gebnitz has taken on a lover,
A Jew named Goldstein. No one can discover
If its his money. But she lives alone
Practically. Gebnitz is a stone,
Pores over books all day, and has no ear
For his wifes singing. Artists must have men;
They need appreciation. But its queer
What messes people make of their lives, when
They should know more. If Gebnitz finds out, then
His wife will pack. Yes, shut the door at once.
【AmyLowell:TheCremonaViolin】相关文章:
★ AmyLowell:TheRedLacquerMusic
最新
2016-03-17
2016-03-17
2016-03-17
2016-03-17
2016-03-17
2016-03-17