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!