I WAS not well the other day, And therefore thought at home to stay — I live upon a quiet little street — And there in peaceful calm remain Until I felt quite strong again My daily tasks to undertake and meet. I'd lain down half a minute, when A pair of vegetable men Began explaining what they had to sell; And then the cry of "Rags!" was heard, "Old iron!" all my nerves bestirred, "Umbrellas here to mend!" "Fresh fish!" they yell. Somebody with a clarinet, A dinner gong I can't forget, Ten million motors on the boulevard, The parrot of the neighborhood, A load of coal, a load of wood, And then the girl who's taking "vocal" — hard! And so, poor I, who'd thought to rest Within a home by quiet blest, Arose, still feeling indisposed and ill, And just to get an hour's peace Went where those city noises cease — Back to my labor in the rolling-mill. |