Throbs of a revolving door,
And the starter’s ticking signal—
“Up! Express here—fourteenth floor!”
Click of coins on the cigar stand;
Two stout parties passing by—
“I sold short and took no chances;
Lackawanna’s too damn high.”
Here’s a C.O. down in his dugout deep
Who once was a poor N.G.
The field phone rings and someone sings,