Classic Poem

Come out ye cockney gentlemen,
The ladies all are out;
And rustling silks and nodding plumes
Are flashing all about,
The street is like a tulip bed,
The clock has just struck one,
Come out ye cockney butterflies
And flutter in the sun.

Come out ye pasteboard Romeos
That strut before the scenes,
Come out ye pallid collegers
That write in Magazines,
Come out ye tarnished veterans
That always take the wall,
Ye stylish men, ye decent men,
Ye shabby men and all!

Thou who dost shun the constable,
And look from side to side,
Who goest not by Congress street
Where tailors do abide,
Thou needst not fear the constable
Thou shalt not meet the dun
No catchpole prowls to take thee here
No tailor walks at one.

The maids of the metropolis
Have robed their snowy arms
And Beacon street and Common street
Have emptied all their charms—
Come out ye cockney gentlemen
While flush the cheeks of Spring
And beauty's birds of Paradise
Are all upon the wing!