Page:Ballads of a Bohemian.djvu/33

Rh Pile them on the tables; Let us to our lairs Underneath the gables.

Up the old Boul’ Mich’ Climb with steps erratic. Steady… how I wish I was in my attic! Full am I with cheer; In my heart the joy stirs; Couldn’t be the beer, Must have been the oysters.

In obscene array Garbage cans spill over; How I wish that they Smelled as sweet as clover! Charing women wait; Cafés drop their shutters; Rats perambulate Up and down the gutters.

Down the darkened street Market carts are creeping; Horse with wary feet, Red-faced driver sleeping. Loads of vivid greens, Carrots, leeks, potatoes, Cabbages and beans, Turnips and tomatoes.