  IF I could have my choice I wouldn’t be The main guy of a kingdom—nix fer me. I’d only wish that I could be as great As one of these gay boys from up the State Imagines that we think he is when he Tilts back his hat and lights his cigarette And does the pouter-pigeon act; I’d let Them have their thrones if I could be as grand As these boys think they are when they “run down” On business trips and let their chests expand And act as though they’d come to buy the town. The minute one of them gets in he shies Around the telegraph girl, makin’ eyes And wantin’ to know what it costs to send Ten words to Saugatuck or Brady’s Bend, Or dictates to the shorthand girl and tries To make her think he’s Mike from Up-the-Crick— It’s easy work to spot these Johnnies quick: They try to mash the chambermaids up-stairs, And buzz the news-stand lady, and I s’pose They think that we all think they’re millionaires— Hello! There that sweet little actress goes.
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