What with the narrow labyrinths miscalled thoroughfares,
What with the sewers and gas, the water and telegraphs,
Traffic is simply a species of lingering agony,
In the Metropolis!
Something is always "up," Sir, pipe-layers, paviors,
Stirrers of most malodorous witch-broth cauldrons,
Makers of shindy and stench, with poor old Babylon,
Play up old Gooseberry!
Courts and Councils, Committees and Correspondents,
Always reporting, writing, and railing concerning it;