The
city streets are hot and dry,
The
cost of living still is high;
But
up and down the streets all day
The
crowd goes in the same old way.
The
same old bargain hunters rush
About
the counters with a crush.
(Gee,
how I wish that I could take
A
two weeks rest down by the lake.)
The
summer shows are running, too,
With
lots of people who pursue.
The
cafes are ablaze with lights
For
people who have appetites.
The
crowds are large, exceeding gay,
You’d
hardly think some were away.
(All
this is fine, but O, my soul,
That
boat and crick and fishing pole!)
The
parks are fine, the fountains sweet,
The
city concerts can’t be beat;
The
people who remain in town,
Are
jolly and won’t be cast down.
Why
not join in and make the time
Pass
like a merry measured rhyme?
(I
would but that confounded crick
Keeps
butting in and makes me sick!)
July 18, ‘10
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