August 4th 1914

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August 4th 1914


 


The hall reeks, the sound is a rag


People strut, pause, clap


The old wood shielded by a mat


From the door you hear the din


The time for joy is nigh


Put on a cap


 


Street of destitute wets my cap


Get a rag


Tiresome times lead sleep to come this nigh


Good sir you should clap


Cabbie cannot hear through the din


Wipe your shoes on my mat


 


You my dear can be my mate


Just clean our caps


The echo of the din


Can be heard, even the rag


You clap


I say let’s have this night


 


The morrow is no longer nigh


See the muddy mat


For nourishment we’ll clap


Heaven’s sake pick up the cap


No more rag


For gone is the night’s din


 


Perhaps our own din?


Though it no longer be the nigh


Go to the study and play a rag


Lay out the mat


Put on your cap


I shall clap


 


And so we clap


We make a din


But first a cup


And in the nigh


We’ll stomp the mat


And dance a rag


 


The sound of the clapping wafts into the night


Consumed by the din we pound the mat


Your last chance to see my cap and hear the rag


 

Created: Apr 26, 2012

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