Scale on, scale on—through endless time—
Through morn, noon, evening—stop no more!
To slaughter you were scarce a crime,
Oh, plaguy and persistent bore!
Were there indeed some quiet street
Where ne’er piano maddened men,
Where never “Scales” this ear should greet,
Then might I rest,—but not till then.
Punch’s Almanac, 1883.
——:o:——