MET a chap the other night, down on Halsted Street,
Holdin' up Mike Kelley's bar, sippin' mint an' rye;
I'd just hit the Stock Yards with a cattle-train o' meat,
Loped around to Kelly's place, singein' hot an' dry.
This here chap was somethin' rare; Henglish tweeds an' gloves,
Stripey collar round his neck, sparks to throw away,
He was givin' 'em a song, 'bout the town he loves,
How they hit "the pace that kills," down on old Broadway.
Heaved a wistful, weepy sigh 'twould make a bay steer groan
When he told us what a spangled, rompin' time he'd had