My Baboon--ba-ha-bee,
My Baboon--ba-ha-bee,
My baboon--Ba-hay-hay-hay-hay-hay-hay-bee-bee.

"And all those pink satin monkeys bumping their cocoanut shells together
in the green moonlight--"

"Well, after the first act, what?" asked the Bibliomaniac.

"The usual intermission," said the Idiot. "You don't have to write that.
The audience generally knows what to do."

"But your second act?" asked the Poet.

"Oh, come off," said the Idiot rising. "We were to do this thing in
collaboration. So far I've done the whole blooming business. I'll leave
the second act to you. When you collaborate, Mr. Poet, you've got to do
a little collabbing on your own account. What did you think you were to
do--collect the royalties?"

"I'm told," said the Lawyer, "that that is sometimes the hardest thing
to do in a comic opera."

"Well, I'll be self-sacrificing," said the Idiot, "and bear my full
share of it."

"It seems to me," said the Bibliomaniac, "that that opera produced in
the right place might stand a chance of a run."

"Thank you," said the Idiot. "After all, Mr. Bib, you are a man of some