For the Cooking Club eats all night, And the Cooking Club eats all day, And don’t you think that you would shrink From boarding them without pay?
I shall tear my hair in wild despair, And pipe my lachrymal glands, And curse my lot that ever I got A Cooking Club on my hands.
So great those girls’ demands That my lachrymal glands I shall pipe and rave when I find I have A Cooking Club on my hands.
2. I shall have no rest, for Huyler’s best They will crave from morn till night, And express their wishes for dainty dishes, Not offering me a bite. They will make it a habit to cook Welsh rabbit In the hours wee and small; And again I vow that I don’t know how I shall stand the expense at all.
But, notwithstanding his misgivings, the Burglar takes the eight sisters to his palatial home and installs them there; whereupon his remonstrances with them for their great extravagance calls forth this musical gem:
The Burglar blows about the clothes And costly jewels the girls are getting; He swears and scowls and groans and growls, His previous contract sore regretting.
Blow, Burglar, blow! Send the wild sisters flying. Blow, Burglar, answer echoes, Flying, flying, flying.
Oh, hark! oh, hear! how loud and clear, And louder, nearer, madder growing, With direful threats about his debts, The blustering Burglar still is blowing.
Blow, Burglar, blow! Send the wild sisters flying. Blow, Burglar, answer echoes, Sighing, sighing, sighing.
Although his tread may wake the dead, Although his voice with rage may quiver, We’ll never stop; from shop to shop, We’ll buy forever and forever.
Blow, Burglar, blow! Send the wild sisters flying. Blow, Burglar, answer sisters, Buying, buying, buying.
This declaration of independence meets with favor among the extravagant eight, and they indulge in a gleeful
Sing a song of samples, A pocket full of stuff; Four-and-twenty patterns, But we haven’t got enough. When the shops are open The girls begin to flock; Isn’t _that_ a pretty piece To make a pretty frock?
The Burglar’s in the tantrums ’Cause we spend his money; He’s always in a fidget ’Cause creditors are dunny; But the sisters are in clover, As you may suppose, Sitting on the parlor floor Choosing summer clothes.