Gazed on ravaged Salonica
With its blackened, gutted buildings,
Thought of cheery times he’d spent there,
Thought of many noisy evenings,
Murmured “No more teas at Floca’s,
No more shopping at Orosdi’s,
No more dinners at the Splendide,
No more revels at the Odéon.”
Murmured “Poor old Salonica,
Dear old dirty Salonica,