Madame Eulalie’s Rare Plums

I USED to think I’d like to be
A person of position,
A scion, say, of Royalty,
Or some such high condition.
But now I hold the mortal whose
Ambition takes this shape errs.
I’ll tell you why I’ve changed my views—
I read the morning papers.

As I complacently reflect,
I’ve very seldom seen a
Dense, interested crowd collect
When I’m with Angelina.
And, if it does, it is not we
Who entertain the gapers:
Some accident they’ve thronged to see—
(Next day it’s in the papers).

But when a royal couple woo,
It can’t be done in private:
For thousands rally round to view
If they can but contrive it.
With cameras behind the trees
Reporters cut their capers.
He gives her hand a tender squeeze—
Next day it’s in the papers.

Oh, wretched is the monarch’s lot:
How he must long to end it!
And mine, although it’s humble, ’s got
Some points to recommend it.
And so I hold that he who tries
These royal folk to ape errs,
Unless some plan he can devise
To dodge the lynx-eyed papers.