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s o r s
and Ralph Barton
h i
1 p
l4|(^1oR,^
When Danlc wrote his primal script
To stave off all his frenzied creditors
And via Burleson it skipped
Into the clutches of the editors,
The judges in the movie faction
Said "Send it back — it needs more action.
When Aristophanes was ^igned
To write his stuff in continuii}-.
His comic captions were declined For insufficient incongruitj-.
His work was finally rejected
As plot that could not he directed.
country is so high, but that the entire population are not devotees, ttat can happen to you in a cinema is to run into a "hillctild" peering at the handsome city-chap through the foliage.
DlR£e]oR<^'@Wo
(Much after, and 'with apologies to, IV. S. Gilbert. )
When Goldamount sought Sophocles To write a few refined scenarios.
They found the stories didn"t please The stars and their Lotharios.
They couldn't see him in the west —
His stories lacked "love interest."
»
When the villain cannot make the right expression
To register his bitterness and hate, Or the ingenue's not seized with the obsession
That her part is just a little too sedate. Then the star is busy talking to her mother
And delaying all the work that's to be done. . O, take one consideration with another.
A director's lot is not a happy one.
And that is how it came to pass
That men whose names live though eternity Were found unworthy for the mass
Of picture-goers of modernity, And had to yield the better places . To .Arthur Reexes and Louis Tracvs.
mWof
Xow the camera is not in proper focus,
Or perhaps they're having trouble with the set. Now the lights are wrong and raising hocus-pocus
And obstructing the effect one wants to get. Now the leading man's supposed to have a brother,
But the make-up's got him looking like a son. O, take one consideration with another,
A director's lot is not a happy one.
Out on the lot— we started so. And things that start must end. you know. So let us hasten this refrain. That you may turn the page again .And say: ""Here you noncensors — blow!"' So ranging n,-hmes in proper row^ And turning them both sweet and lo.
Once more we strike the golden strain "Out on the lot."
Once more the cry is: "Westward ho!" And Presto! Here's the studio —
The land where only pictures reign — The land of stars that never wane "WTiat, never?" echoes this rondeau — Out on the lot.