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First Line: Shall I, lying in a grot
Last Line: What care I how bad they be?
Alternate Author Name(s): F. P. A.
Subject(s): New York City; Summer; Manhattan; New York, New York; The Big Apple


Shall I, lying in a grot,
Die because the day is hot?
Or declare I can't endure
Such a torrid temperature?
Be it hotter than the flames
South Gehenna Junction claims,
If it be not so to me,
What care I how hot it be?

Shall I say I love the town
Praised by Robinson and Browne?
Shall I say, "In Summer heat
Old Manhattan can't be beat"?
Be it luring as a bar,
Or my neighbor's motor-car,
If I think it is pazziz
What care I how fine it is?

Shall I prate of rural joys
Far from civic smoke and noise?
Shall I, like the others, drool
"But the nights are always cool"?
If I hate to rise at six
Shall I praise the suburbs? Nix!
If the country's not for me,
What care I how good it be?

Town or country, cool or hot,
Differs nothing, matters not;
For to quote that Roman cuss,
Why dispute "de gustibus"?
If to this or that one should
Take a fancy, it is good.
If these rhymes look good to me,
What care I how bad they be?





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