* * * *
With "Bluchers" cobbled and worn,
With post-bag heavy alway,
A postman tramped on his twentieth round,
On good St. Valentine's day.
Rat-tat! tat! tat!
At every knocker almost;
And still, in a voice that was somewhat flat,
(Many wondered whate'er he was at),
He sang the "Song of the Post!"