I know his automatic’s ready waiting to his hand.
I know a tragedy is near. I dread, I have no peace…
Oh, don’t you think I ought to go and call upon the police?
Look there… he’s rising up… my God! He leaps from out his place…
Yon millionaire from Argentine… the two are face to face…
A shot! A shriek! A heavy fall! A huddled heap! Oh, see
The little wizened Spanish man is dancing in his glee….
I’m sick… I’m faint… I’m going mad…. Oh, please take me away…
There’s blood upon the terrace of the Café de la Paix….
And now I’ll leave my work and sally forth. The city is en fête. I’ll join the crowd and laugh and sing with the best.
The sunshine seeks my little room
To tell me Paris streets are gay;
That children cry the lily bloom
All up and down the leafy way;
That half the town is mad with May,
With flame of flag and boom of bell:
For Carnival is King to-day;
So pen and page, awhile farewell.
