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The M. P. Girl I saw her first on Broadway, And then in Chinatown; I’ve met her in the Bowery, Joking with a clown. She has wintered in Alaska, And summered in Ceylon, And one spring in Madagascar She played a game of “con.” I’ve seen her beating up a cop, I’ve seen her drive a car. And when the engine did a flop She got an awful jar. She once fell down a mountain side And landed on her head. But when they picked her up and cried She was not even dead. She’ll run a boat or dance a jig. She’ll sit and spoon all night. She doesn’t seem to care a fig About what’s wrong or right. She’s married nearly fifty men, She’s children by the score, And yet she’s only ten plus ten, And modest to the core. Ah, yes, I worship her shadow, And I spend all my money, although It’s only in pictures I see her, On a film in the M. P. show. hilson munsey, New York Dramatic Mirror (12 June 1912), 33 ...

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