THE HAPPY JOURNALIST
I loveto walk about at nightBy nasty lanes and corners foul,All shielded from the unfriendly lightAnd independent as the owl.By dirty grates I love to lurk;I often stoop to take a squintAt printers working at their work.I muse upon the rot they print.The beggars please me, and the mud:The editors beneath their lampsAs—Mr. Howl demanding blood,And Lord Retender stealing stamps,And Mr. Bing instructing liars,His elder son composing trash;Beaufort (whose real name is Meyers)Refusing anything but cash.I like to think of Mr. Meyers,I like to think of Mr. Bing.I like to think about the liars:It pleases me, that sort of thing.Policemen speak to me, but I,Remembering my civic rights,Neglect them and do not reply.I love to walk about at nights!At twenty-five to four I bunchAcross a cab I can’t afford.I ring for breakfast after lunch.I am as happy as a lord!
I loveto walk about at nightBy nasty lanes and corners foul,All shielded from the unfriendly lightAnd independent as the owl.By dirty grates I love to lurk;I often stoop to take a squintAt printers working at their work.I muse upon the rot they print.The beggars please me, and the mud:The editors beneath their lampsAs—Mr. Howl demanding blood,And Lord Retender stealing stamps,And Mr. Bing instructing liars,His elder son composing trash;Beaufort (whose real name is Meyers)Refusing anything but cash.I like to think of Mr. Meyers,I like to think of Mr. Bing.I like to think about the liars:It pleases me, that sort of thing.Policemen speak to me, but I,Remembering my civic rights,Neglect them and do not reply.I love to walk about at nights!At twenty-five to four I bunchAcross a cab I can’t afford.I ring for breakfast after lunch.I am as happy as a lord!
I loveto walk about at nightBy nasty lanes and corners foul,All shielded from the unfriendly lightAnd independent as the owl.
I loveto walk about at night
By nasty lanes and corners foul,
All shielded from the unfriendly light
And independent as the owl.
By dirty grates I love to lurk;I often stoop to take a squintAt printers working at their work.I muse upon the rot they print.
By dirty grates I love to lurk;
I often stoop to take a squint
At printers working at their work.
I muse upon the rot they print.
The beggars please me, and the mud:The editors beneath their lampsAs—Mr. Howl demanding blood,And Lord Retender stealing stamps,
The beggars please me, and the mud:
The editors beneath their lamps
As—Mr. Howl demanding blood,
And Lord Retender stealing stamps,
And Mr. Bing instructing liars,His elder son composing trash;Beaufort (whose real name is Meyers)Refusing anything but cash.
And Mr. Bing instructing liars,
His elder son composing trash;
Beaufort (whose real name is Meyers)
Refusing anything but cash.
I like to think of Mr. Meyers,I like to think of Mr. Bing.I like to think about the liars:It pleases me, that sort of thing.
I like to think of Mr. Meyers,
I like to think of Mr. Bing.
I like to think about the liars:
It pleases me, that sort of thing.
Policemen speak to me, but I,Remembering my civic rights,Neglect them and do not reply.I love to walk about at nights!
Policemen speak to me, but I,
Remembering my civic rights,
Neglect them and do not reply.
I love to walk about at nights!
At twenty-five to four I bunchAcross a cab I can’t afford.I ring for breakfast after lunch.I am as happy as a lord!
At twenty-five to four I bunch
Across a cab I can’t afford.
I ring for breakfast after lunch.
I am as happy as a lord!