Beauty in Trouble

Lyrics
Beauty in trouble flees to the good angel On whom she can rely To pay her cab-fare, run a steaming bath, Poultice her bruised eye; Will not at first, whether for shame or caution, Her difficulty disclose; Until he draws a cheque book from his plumage, Asking how much she owes. (Breakfast in bed: coffee and marmalade, Toast, eggs, orange-juice, After a long, sound sleep – the first since when? – And no word of abuse.) Loves him less only than her saint-like mother, Promises to rеpay His loans and most seraphic thoughtfulness A million-fold one day. Bеauty grows plump, renews her broken courage And, borrowing ink and pen, Writes a news-letter to the evil angel (Her first gay act since when?): The fiend who beats, betrays and sponges on her, Persuades her white is black, Flaunts vespertilian wing and cloven hoof; And soon will fetch her back. Virtue, good angel, is its own reward: Your guineas were well spent. But would you to the marriage of true minds Admit impediment?
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