  “The blue fly sung in the pane.”—Tennyson. TOILING in Town now is “horrid” (There is that woman again!)— June in the zenith is torrid, Thought gets dry in the brain. There is that woman again: “Strawberries! fourpence a pottle!” Thought gets dry in the brain; Ink gets dry in the bottle. “Strawberries! fourpence a pottle!” Oh for the green of a lane!— Ink gets dry in the bottle; “Buzz” goes a fly in the pane! Oh for the green of a lane, Where one might lie and be lazy! “Buzz” goes a fly in the pane; Bluebottles drive me crazy! Where one might lie and be lazy, Careless of Town and all in it!— Bluebottles drive me crazy: Careless of Town and all in it, With some one to soothe and to still you, I shall go mad in a minute, Bluebottle, then I shall kill you! With some one to soothe and to still you, As only one’s feminine kin do,— Bluebottle, then I shall kill you: There now! I’ve broken the window! As only one’s feminine kin do,— Some muslin-clad Mabel or May!— There now! I’ve broken the window! Bluebottle’s off and away! Some muslin-clad Mabel or May, To dash one with eau de Cologne;— Bluebottle’s off and away, And why should I stay here alone? To dash one with eau de Cologne, All over one’s eminent forehead; And why should I stay here alone? Toiling in Town now is “horrid.” Austin Dobson. |
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