The Books of To-day and the Books of To-morrow, July 1908


(With acknowledgements to the gifted writer of the Gaiety lyric of the same name and to the Manchester Watch Committee.)

THERE’S a girl who can dance in a way
That astonishes people, they say.
They see her Salome,
And gasp out, ‘Well, blow me!
That’s pretty remarkable, eh?’
The name of this damsel is Maud, 18
She’s succeeded at home and abroad;
But the hawk-eyed committee
Of Manchester city
Are not among those who applaud.

Maud, Maud, Maud,
You may be all right for abroad:
But every one knows,
That in districts like those
Morality’s apt to get flawed.
Should Manchester grin at what pleases Berlin,
Our hearts with distress would be gnawed.
We don’t bear you malice,
But—stay at the Palace,
Dear Maud, Maud, Maud.

When she dances a dance to the King,
He exclaims, ‘Bis! Encore! Just the thing!’
If she were improper,
He surely would stop her,
And not take her under his wing.
When his friends are invited to munch
In the Premier’s home circle a lunch,
You’ll find that the lady
Mancunians deem shady
Is frequently one of the bunch.

Maud, Maud, Maud,
We beg you, don’t be overawed.
Let’s hope that the hearts
In those far-away parts
May shortly be softened and thawed.
If they saw you, like us, there would be no more fuss:
They’d be sorry they cavilled and pshaw’d.
And they’d all say your dancing
Was simply entrancing,
Dear Maud, Maud, Maud.



Printed unsigned; attributed to Wodehouse in Wooster Sauce 21.



  An artiste named Maud Allen had performed a Salome dance at the Palace Theatre, Manchester, causing some local disquiet. She did appear before the King, and also before Margot Asquith.