From The Birmingham Age-Herald, April 29, 1913. When Travers Green was feeling gay He lightly sought some cabaret And when “Fleurette” began to dance He’d give a connoisseur’s glance, As if to all the world to say, “I know what’s what in a cabaret.” Anon he sipped the sparkling wine, Where countless lights were wont to shine; His dress was faultless to behold, His manners easy, yet not bold, And had you but observed hime there, You would have thought him free from care. Alas! Alack for Travers Green! No more in gilded haunts is seen; His dad who used his bills to pay For motors, clubs and cabaret, And costly clothes and chorus girls And many, many merry whirls Has cut poor Travers off without The wherewithal to roam about; And since this youth has never toiled, Nor felt his hands by labor soiled, What lies before I cannot say, But he dines no more in a cabaret.