In Town.

"The blue fly sung in the pane."--Tennyson.     Toiling in Town now is "horrid,"     (There is that woman again!)--     June in the zenith is torrid,     Thought gets dry in the brain.     There is that woman again:     "Strawberries! fourpence a pottle!"     Thought gets dry in the brain;     Ink gets dry in the bottle.     "Strawberries! fourpence a pottle!"     Oh for the green of a lane!--     Ink gets dry in the bottle;     "Buzz" goes a fly in the pane!     Oh for the green of a lane,     Where one might lie and be lazy!     "Buzz" goes a fly in the pane;     Bluebottles drive me crazy!     Where one might lie and be lazy,     Careless of Town and all in it!--     Bluebottles drive me crazy:     I shall go mad in a minute!     Careless of Town and all in it,     With some one to soothe and to still you;--     I shall go mad in a minute;     Bluebottle, then I shall kill you!     With some one to soothe and to still you,     As only one's feminine kin do,--     Bluebottle, then I shall kill you:     There now! I've broken the window!     As only one's feminine kin do,--     Some muslin-clad Mabel or May!--     There now! I've broken the window!     Bluebottle's off and away!     Some muslin-clad Mabel or May,     To dash one with eau de Cologne;--     Bluebottle's off and away;     And why should I stay here alone!     To dash one with eau de Cologne,     All over one's eminent forehead;--     And why should I stay here alone!     Toiling in Town now is "horrid."