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DISENCHANTED.

NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED

"FOR once in my life," I thought through the rehearsals,

"That fickle jade, Fortune, has used me quite well."

You see I'd been cast for a doting old father,

And "Alice, his daughter," had fallen to Nell.

My thoughts of the future were dreams of elysium

As, musing, I thought of the scene full of bliss,

When wheedling consent from her fond, foolish parent,

She clinches the thing with a sweet little kiss.

Two acts had been played midst a shower of plaudits,

Our scene came at last, and, scarce daring to speak,

I gently bent down to the blushing young beauty,

And pressed a soft kiss on the velvety cheek.

On that cheek, once a desert of lilies and roses,

Instanter I see an oasis appear;

My mouth has a taste of cosmetics, rouge, powder,

That can't be removed by a gallon of beer.

The actors all snicker, the audience titter,

A mild sort of lunacy steals o'er my brain

As I solemnly swear, SOTTO VOCE, "Well, hang me

If I e'er take a part where there's kissing again!"

M. L.

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