A Lounger Songtext
von Whitcomb

He leaned against a lamppost lost
In some mysterious reverie
His head was bowed, his arms were crossed
He only glanced evasively
Uncrossed his arms and slowly put
Them back again and scratched his side
Shifted his weight from foot to foot
And gazed on nowhere idle-eyed
Idle-eyed


Grotesque of form and face and dress
And picturesque in every way
A figure that from day to day
Drooped with a nympho-laziness
A figure such as artists lean
In pictures where distress is seen
Against low hovels where we guess
No happiness has ever been

Grotesque of form and face and dress
And picturesque in every way
A figure that from day to day
Drooped with a nympho-laziness
A figure such as artists lean
In pictures where distress is seen
Against low hovels where we guess
No happiness has ever been