Sirens of Manhattan
The sirens of Manhattan
Make a sound we always hear,
Alerting all pedestrians
And traffic to stay clear.
It’s background noise that city folk
Don’t pay attention to,
The urban version of a field
Of cows all saying, “Moo.”
It doesn’t matter if the sound’s
From ambulance or police
Or fire engine; in a minute,
Urgency will cease.
New Yorkers will not raise their heads
To note the siren’s screech
Unless it stops right where they are,
A safety zone-type breach.
Then curiosity kicks in
And nosiness runs riot
Although, by then, the sirens have
Quite naturally, gone quiet.
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