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An now I am goin to heer they say. "Deer Janis, see if my echo is thar. Yu no my echo that is the way techur says to spell it. If my echo is waitn tell it I am comin' to heer it again. And I luv you lots and lots, deer Janis. I will show you how much when I com home to father and Pokton. no moar at prasens, from your little Lottie."
And as over the theatres in letters of fire were written the names of the stars in the London firmament Marie Lohr, Moscovitch, Elsie Janis so over, all over, Lady Sellingworth seemed to be written for Craven to read: "I am really not a Bohemian." "Do you genuinely wish Lady Sellingworth to finish the evening at the Cafe Royal?" he asked of his companion. "Yes. They would love her there.
But then, neither has Georgie Cohan, and I can't see that it's wrecked his life any. Look at Elsie Janis! But she sings. And they like it! Now listen. I've got a song. It's my own. That bit you played for me up at Gottschalk's is part of the chorus. But it's the words that'll go big. They're great. It's an aviation song, see? Airship stuff.
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