Classic Poem

The town, which was half destroyed by fire,
They are building at their leisure.
It looks like a half-shorn poodle now,
Depressing beyond measure.

And many a street has disappeared
That sadly enough one misses.
Where is the house in which I kissed
Love's first and sweetest kisses?

And where has the printing-office gone
Where I printed my Reisebilder?
The shop where I tasted oysters first?
How these changes and gaps bewilder.

Where is the Dreckwall? Vanished, alas!
In vain I have reconnoitred;
The Pavilion too, with its tarts and cakes,
Where of old I ate and loitered.

Where is the town-hall where, throned in pride,
The Senate and burgers debated?
A prey to the flames that wrecked and devoured
The holiest things, unsated.

The people are grieving and sighing still,
And telling the dismal story
Of the havoc wrought by the terrible fire
That has shorn their city's glory.

" Nothing but surging flame and smoke —
The fire seized all for plunder!
The steeples roared and blazed to heaven,
And reeled and crashed in thunder.

" The old Exchange with the rest is burnt,
Where our fathers had dealt and traded
For hundreds of years like honest men —
(Or so they were persuaded).

" The bank, the silver soul of the town,
And the books in which is given
The money value of every man —
They are still intact, thank Heaven!

" Thank Heaven too! even distant lands
Began subscribing to aid us;
We got four hundred thousand pounds;
Our misfortunes more than paid us.

" The charity-box was carried round
By pious folk and respected;
And we never let the left hand know
What the right hand had collected.

" From every country the money flowed in,
And our hands were open to take it:
And food — we welcomed any dole,
Whatever they liked to make it.

" They sent us clothes and bedding enough,
And bread and meat and soups too.
The King of Prussia went so far
As to want to send his troops, too.

" The material loss was covered quite —
'Twas a matter of calculation;
But alas! for the awful terror and fright
We shall never have compensation! "

I answered them cheerfully, " Worthy friends,
Stop whining, it only hinders.
Troy in its day was a better town.
And yet it was burnt to cinders.

" Get on with your building, and hold your tongues;
Get rid of your puddles and mire too.
Provide your city with better laws,
And engines for quenching fire too.

" Your cayenne pepper more sparingly use.
When turtle-soup's in the question;
And the carp you cook with its scales in fat
Must be fatal, I fear, to digestion.

" On the whole your turkeys are harmless birds,
But there's risk of grave disaster
From the knavish bird who lays its eggs
In the wig of the burgomaster.

" I need not mention the name of the bird,
But it merits your execration.
Whenever I think of the odious thing
I am sick with indignation. "