(_Servant-girl et al. dance "Shoo Fly," and sing_:)

We feel, we feel, we feel,
We feel like a young typhoon;
We hope, we hope, we hope,
We hope you'll be paying soon.

(_Exeunt Servant-girl, et al_.)

JENKINS. (_Loq._) Well, come soon. Now I must go. I hate to cheat the
provider of that seventh-class hash, but I must beat on somebody. Well,
let them all come, and devil take the hindmost. I'll pack my valise.
(_Puts things in his valise. Sings_:)

It's rich that I am, am I not?
Just look at the fixings I've got;
Here's a brush, here's a comb,
Both are for fixing my dome,
A tooth-brush and collar, that's all,
My baggage's conveniently small.

JENKINS. (_Loq_.) That valise is too thin. No landlord would take me on
that. It's consumptive-looking. I'll fill it with newspapers. Here, this
will do, this triple-sheet _Tribune_, with Mrs. MCFARLAND'S epistle.
That'll fill it. (_Shoves paper in valise_.) Now for my hat and coat.
(_Puts them on_.) Off I go. (_Sings_:)

I'm off, I'm off,
I'm off for Long Branch,