Page:Ballads of a Bohemian.djvu/51

With around his neck a tin
Into which the pennies fall.
She will pass (I see it plain,
Like a cinematograph),
She will halt and turn again,
Look and look, and maybe laugh.

Well, I’m not so sure of that—
Whether she will laugh or cry.
He will hold a battered hat
To the lady passing by.
He will smile a cringing smile,
And into his grimy hold,
With a laugh (or sob) the while,
She will drop a piece of gold.

“Bless you, lady,” he will say,
And get grandly drunk that night.
She will come and come each day,
Fascinated by the sight.
Then somehow he’ll get to know
(Maybe by some kindly friend)
Who she is, and so… and so
Bring my story to an end.

How his heart will burst with hate!
He will curse and he will cry.
He will wait and wait and wait,
Till again she passes by.
Then like tiger from its lair
He will leap from out his place,