SCENE.--_A square in Kensington. At every other door is seen the lady
of the house at work with pail, broom, scrubbing-brush, rags,
metal-polish, etc._
_Chorus of Ladies._
In days before the War
Had turned the world to Hades
We did not soil
Our hands with toil--
We all were perfect ladies;
To scrub the kitchen floor
Was _infra dig._--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.
_Chorus of Ladies._
O joy! O rapture!
If we capture
Such a prize as this!
Then we may become once more
Ladies, as in days of yore,
Lay aside the brooms and pails,
Manicure our broken nails,
Try the last complexion cream--
What a dream
Of bliss!
_Super-Char_. 'Old on! Let's get to business, and no kidding!
I'm up for auction; 'oo will start the bidding?
_First Lady. _I want a charlady from ten to four,
To cook the lunch and scrub the basement floor.
_Super-Char. _Cook? Scrub? Thanks! Nothink doin'! Next, please! You, Mum,
What are the dooties you would 'ave me do, Mum?
_Second Lady_. I want a lady who will kindly call
And help me dust the dining-room and hall;
At tea, if need be, bring an extra cup,
And sometimes do a little washing up.
_Super-Char_. A little bit of dusting I might lump,
But washing up--it gives me fair the 'ump!
Next, please!
_Third Lady_. My foremost thought would always be
The comfort of the lady helping me.
We have a cask of beer that's solely for
Your use--we are teetotal for the War.
I am a cook of more than moderate skill;
I'll gladly cook whatever dish you will--
Soups, entrées.
_Super-Char_. Now you're talkin'! That's some sense!
So kindly let me 'ave your reference,
And if I finds it satisfact'ry, Mum,
Why, s'elp me, I 'ave arf a mind to come.
_Third Lady_. My last good lady left six months ago
Because she said I'd singed the _soufflé_ so;
She gave me no address to write to--
_Super-Char_. What!
You've got no reference?
_Third Lady_. Alas, I've not!
_Super-Char_. Of course I could not dream of taking you
Without one, so there's nothing more to do.
These women--'ow they spoil one's temper! Pah!
Hi! (_she hails a passing taxi_) Drive me to the nearest cinema.
[_She steps into the taxi and is whirled off._
_Chorus of Ladies._
Not yet the consolation
Of manicure and cream;
Not yet the barber dresses
Our dusty tousled tresses;
The thought of titivation
Is still a distant dream;
Not yet the consolation
Of manicure and cream.
Still, still, with vim and vigour,
'Tis ours to scour and scrub;
With rag and metal polish
The dirt we must demolish;
Still, still, with toil-bowed figure,
Among the grates we grub;
Still, still, with vim and vigour,
'Tis ours to scour and scrub.