How grimy and gritty are streets in the City, How parched is each pavement and park, Where Londoners harried in thoroughfares arid Forgather from dawn until dark!
An atmosphere torrid, oppressive and horrid, With leather-like lungs we inhale, While odorous motors ( more pungent than bloaters ) Our impotent nostrils assail,
And whistles and catcalls and horns without number Combine to destroy all our chances of slumber! How weary my heart is of dinners and parties, How sick of each concert and play!
All social exertion I view with aversion, Of banquets I dream with dismay. Each moment enhances my hatred of dances, All luncheons with loathing I hail;
At ev'ry collation, in sheer detestation, I shrink from each cutlet or quail; For though I enjoy such delights within reason, I gratefully welcome the end of the Season!
The holiday feeling is over me stealing, I long to escape from the town, Exchanging its highways for hedges and byways, For moorland and meadow and down.
In cobble-paved alleys how verdant the valleys, How fragrant the forests appear, Where fountains are flashing, and rivulets splashing Make melody sweet to the ear;
Where Orpheus his musical message delivers, And Pan and his piping are heard by the rivers!
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