 | From Sunset Ridge |  |
159
FROM THE WINDOW
Curse me that hand-organ man!
How he spoils his airs
With mechanic grinding,
As bigots spoil their prayers.
How he spoils his airs
With mechanic grinding,
As bigots spoil their prayers.
In my crimson parlor
Beethoven shall reign;
Handel, Mozart, Wagner;
Mongrels I disdain.
Beethoven shall reign;
Handel, Mozart, Wagner;
Mongrels I disdain.
[OMITTED]
See the merry hackmen
Dancing in the cold,
And the beggar swaying
To the rhythm trolled.
Dancing in the cold,
And the beggar swaying
To the rhythm trolled.
And as I go creeping
On this icy way,
Winter seems to hearken
To the song of May.
On this icy way,
Winter seems to hearken
To the song of May.
The music of the streets is kin
To God's own harmony;
So, bless me that hand-organ man,
And give him double fee!
To God's own harmony;
So, bless me that hand-organ man,
And give him double fee!
| From Sunset Ridge | |