As Msieu pleases.
Tap! Squeak! Tap!
The man on the ladder hammers steadily for a minute or two,
Then stops.
He! Patron!
They are fastened well, Nom dun Chien!
What if I break them?
Break away,
You and Paul must have them down to-day.
Bien.
And the hammers start again,
Drum-beating at the something of gilded wood.
Sunshine in a golden flood
Lighting up the yellow fronts of houses,
Glittering each window to a flash.
Squeak! Squeak! Tap!
The hammers beat and rap.
A Prussian hussar on a grey horse goes by at a dash.
From other shops, the noise of striking blows:
Pounds, thumps, and whacks;
Wooden sounds: splinters -- cracks.
Paris is full of the galloping of horses and the knocking of hammers.
Hullo! Friend Martin, is business slack
That you are in the street this morning? Dont turn your
back
And scuttle into your shop like a rabbit to its hole.
Ive just been taking a stroll.
The stinking Cossacks are bivouacked all up and down the Champs
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