Eleventh Avenue Racket

 THERE is something terrible
about a hurdy-gurdy,
a gipsy man and woman,
and a monkey in red flannel
all stopping in front of a big house
with a sign “For Rent” on the door
and the blinds hanging loose
and nobody home.

I never saw this.

I hope to God I never will.


 Whoop-de-doodle-de-doo.

 Hoodle-de-harr-de-hum.

Nobody home? Everybody home.

 Whoop-de-doodle-de-doo.


Mamie Riley married Jimmy Higgins last night: Eddie Jones died of whooping cough: George Hacks got a job on the police force: the Rosenheims bought a brass bed: Lena Hart giggled at a jackie: a pushcart man called tomaytoes, tomaytoes.

 Whoop-de-doodle-de-doo.

 Hoodle-de-harr-de-hum.

 Nobody home? Everybody home.

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