Poor city man! I pity you, Deep in my heart, I really do. Hearing you say as you did today, "How tiresome to make small towns this way; A man might as well in prison stay, As to travel the country roads, @3I@1 say." Would you like better the city street, The hurrying throng with no thought at all For the men and women who toil and rush Hither and yon at the time-clock's call? Why, man! I woke at break of day, Hearing a lovely cardinal say, "Pretty -- pretty -- pretty, the day is fine, Wake up! Wake up! Oh, friend of mine, Thanks for the meal your hands have spread; Sunflower seeds are my daily bread." Trees are budding, tulips are up Out of snow-covered garden bed -- In a very short time their gorgeous bloom Will be a riot of color red. So let me travel the country way, Friendly trees lining the paths I stray, Leading to joys that are always new, Lovely green meadows and skies so blue; Poor city man, don't pity @3me@1, Your unseeing eyes need @3my@1 sympathy! |