  In nineteen hundred and fifty-six The year of our Lord, A. D., I sat me down, and put my specs on, An epistle of length to see. And that you may understand this better, I’ll herewith disclose the news of the letter: “Dear Mike,” the writer began, “you know I’m feeling that life is far from slow. As Mary B. Eaton, instructor in war, My military academy’s not such a bore; Between drills, and luncheon, and chapel, it seems That this life is not all that it was in my dreams. “And Nance, instead of teaching the boys how to ride, Prefers to smuggle them food, and candy beside. By the way, did you know that Virge Leffingwell Has given up art and horses as well? She’s opened a school, the dear old scamp, To teach all the young ladies the best ways to vamp. “The other day, as I drove in my hack, I passed a familiar figure in black; ’Twas irresponsible Lydia, our giggler so jolly, Gone into seclusion to atone for past folly. She lives all alone, without any noise, Without any jazz, and without any boys! She told me with horror and pain in her gaze That Bee had turned actress, in movies (not plays) And that very same week was playing down town With R. Valentino in the ‘Countess’s Frown.’ “I didn’t tell Lydia, but I thought ’twould be great To go to Bee’s movie and see how she’d rate. So I left Lyd and started, and the first thing I met, Or rather bumped into, was a fair suffragette, Covered with signs ‘E. Baker for Mayor’. So many there hardly was room To see our progressive young democrat Hume! Yes, ’twas none other than Marion, our businesslike girl; She’s adopted the slogan of ‘Death to the curl!’ And she’s canvassing the city, with a terrible row, To get votes for Ely, who’s in politics now. The last thing I know they had each found a mate. One of them’s handsome and young, but no money, The other one’s rich, but crabby and funny. But each one is happy in marriage, they say; And that’s what really counts, say what you may. For Bernice is proud of her good-looking guy, And Andy knows the old man will soon die! “Did you see in the paper Mary Brackett’s new fad? As Sunday School superintendent I’ll bet she’s not bad. And, Mike, yesterday on some errands, I encountered another of our old friends. I’d hired a cab because I was tired. I thought the driver was reckless and ought to be fired; So I leaned over to express my opinion, you know, And if it wasn’t our Esther, the pedestrian’s foe! “Did you know Marion MacDonald is engaged again? That makes five times now, oh, woe to the men! Jean’s spoken to her now, a couple of times, Of reforming herself, but do you think Marion minds? Jean’s slumming committees have had lots of work, Directed by Joey, who won’t let them shirk. “Well, Mike, how’re your orphans, from Johnny to Bill? Are there exactly nine hundred and nine of them still?” And with this, Tony closed, and Ted Henry, Oswald, etcetera, I sent up to bed. |
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