In one, WAR LORD strides in from the right followed by a nervous CHANG and WANG.

She stole his smackeroonies---
She stole them, it's true;
To steal one's smackeroonies
Is a lousy thing to do.

Fooey on Molly,
We're sure you'll concur---
Fooey on Molly,
Fooey on her!

They're master's smackeroonies
And that makes it worse---
She stole his smackeroonies
Right out of master's purse.
Fooey on Molly,
It's fooey, kind sir,
Fooey on Molly!
Fooey on her!

(THEY march off. Curtains part and we are in a small, rather dingy, sparsely furnished hotel room in Suchow. A man with his back to the audience stands at the window peering through binoculars. Then he turns face front, and we discover it is the BARON. A tap at the door. HE opens it and admits a woman, her face hidden by a large grocery bag. SHE sets the bag on the table, and we see that it is CLARISSE. Only she has dyed her hair the same shade of blonde as Molly and wears it in the same fashion.)

Some people met in Biarritz,
Some meet in Scottish glens,
Some in Nairobi
And even the Gobi,
And some meet in opium dens.

Some people meet at parties,
Some on an omnibus,
Some meet in valleys
Or very dark alleys,

We met in the ocean,
We met in the sea,
While struggling and groping,
I found you
And you found me.

We met in the ocean,
We met dans la mer,
While grasping at flotsam,
I looked up
And you were there.

How strange
To find the one to adore me,
How strange
To find him there in the blue.

I was drowning,
My whole life passed before me,
And all at once
You did, too.

And when we have children,
We'll give them a shove
Straight into the water,
For what we're thinking of
Is perhaps
One day in the ocean,
They, too, will find love.

                                                                                      (THEY toast.)

                                                                                   (THEY click their glasses and drink.)