_--disgusting;
We'd cook, at most,
A slice of toast
Or do a bit of dusting.
But those old days are flown,
And now we ply our labours:
We cook and scrub,
We scour and rub,
Regardless of our neighbours;
The steps we bravely stone,
Nor care a straw who passes
The while we clean
With shameless mien
Quite brazenly the brasses.
_First Lady_. Lo! Who approaches? Some great dame of state?
_Second Lady_. Rather I think some walking fashion-plate.
_Third Lady_. What clothes! What furs!
_First Lady_. And tango boots! How thrilling!
They must have cost five guineas if a shilling.
_Second Lady_. Sh, dears! It eyes us hard. What can it be?
_Third Lady_. It would be spoke to.
_Second Lady_. Would it?
_First Lady_. Let us see!
_Enter the_ Super-Char.
_Super-char_. My friend the butcher told me 'e'd 'eard say
You 'adn't got no servants round this way,
And as I've time on 'and--more than I wish,
Seein' as all the kids is in munish--
I thought as 'ow, pervided that the wige
Should suit, I might be willin' to oblige.
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