Where do all the breezes blow?
I know, I know;
Sweeping over summer seas,
Sighing through the forest trees,
Flying over meadow leas,
That is where they blow.

Where do all the blossoms blow?
I know, I know:
Sweet in sunshine, fresh in rain,
In the woodland, on the plain,
In the garden and the lane,
That is where they blow.

Where should breeze and blossom blow?
I know, I know;
Those should blow and these should bloom,
Bearing fragrance, chasing gloom,
From the sickly city room —
Home of want and woe