THE DELICATESSEN SHOP
Reading edition
You must have noticed, on a Sunday night, The line of husbands, forming on the right, ... A bent old fogey, and a spatted fop Are rubbing shoulders in the crowded shop Where lurid signs proclaim a pale green tea Or shriek in praise of chicken fricassee. Furtively they take their places in line And meditate the where-withall to dine ... Then whisper it quite deprecatingly, And steal away as humble as can be!