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Robert W Service - NoctambuleRobert W Service - Noctambule
Work rating: Low


Zut! it`s two o`clock. See! the lights are jumping. Finish up your bock, Time we all were humping. Waiters stack the chairs, Pile them on the tables; Let us to our lairs Underneath the gables. Up the old Boul` Mich` Climb with steps erratic. Steady . . . how I wish I was in my attic! Full am I with cheer; In my heart the joy stirs; Couldn`t be the beer, Must have been the oysters. In obscene array Garbage cans spill over; How I wish that they Smelled as sweet as clover! Charing women wait; Cafes drop their shutters; Rats perambulate Up and down the gutters. Down the darkened street Market carts are creeping; Horse with wary feet, Red-faced driver sleeping. Loads of vivid greens, Carrots, leeks, potatoes, Cabbages and beans, Turnips and tomatoes. Pair of dapper chaps, Cigarettes and sashes, Stare at me, perhaps Desperate Apachès. "Needn`t bother me, Jolly well you know it; Parceque je suis Quartier Latin poet. "Give you villanelles, Madrigals and lyrics; Ballades and rondels, Odes and panegyrics. Poet pinched and poor, Pricked by cold and hunger; Trouble`s troubadour, Misery`s balladmonger." Think how queer it is! Every move I`m making, Cosmic gravity`s Center I am shaking; Oh, how droll to feel (As I now am feeling), Even as I reel, All the world is reeling. Reeling too the stars, Neptune and Uranus, Jupiter and Mars, Mercury and Venus; Suns and moons with me, As I`m homeward straying, All in sympathy Swaying, swaying, swaying. Lord! I`ve got a head. Well, it`s not surprising. I must gain my bed Ere the sun be rising; When the merry lark In the sky is soaring, I`ll refuse to hark, I`ll be snoring, snoring. Strike a sulphur match . . . Ha! at last my garret. Fumble at the latch, Close the door and bar it. Bed, you graciously Wait, despite my scorning . . . So, bibaciously Mad old world, good morning.
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