(7)
PARCEL DAY
(Accele-rato, con moto, mysterioso)
There's a murmur in the air—in the air—
There are ninety parcels there
Full of jams, anchovies rare
For the prisoners de guerre—
Bless their souls.
Hark! I hear him read the list—read the list—
Six for you—I do insist—
One for me is rather triste—
Though size counts too I wist—
Bless our souls.
At the room we breathless wait—breathless wait—
You must not risk being late,
It might change your parcel's fate,
So on our boldness do not prate.
Bless our souls.
All is o'er, they have them fast—have them fast—
There's some jam that will not last,
Some tongue for a repast—
Quenchers, shirts, and tea! avast!
Bless their souls.
(8)
LETTERS COME
(Adagio)
Letters come. Letters go.
Winter's gone. Gone the snow.
Gone the footer and toboggan,
Gone our erstwhile trick of hoggin,
And the price prevents our groggin,
Life is so.
Rumours come. Rumours go.
What's the truth?—we don't know.
In Kastamuni our hearts are breaking
And we fear the rude awaking
When from her tracks we'll be making,
Love is so.
(9) "Die Nacht"—an inversion of "Der Tag," a one-act play of 1914.