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The Cicisbeae
Mincing on slippered feet, Decked out in sad mandarin-pale faces, A pride of women flock to The Broad Motel To sing a song of sixpence. Tripping on bound feet, Quilted into identical wrappers, they Take turn and turnabout through the bedroom turnstyle With State Senators, with expenses. Mouths, bellies, feet Clutch in spasm, let go, get up, go; Some pocket money, all drink: this is the Social Hour; the Chair presents His platform:- each to sing her favorite Ditty before he'll let her leave: Careless Love, Only the Lonely, A Small Hotel. . . . "Next week, O.K.? Sure, tax exempt!"