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Faintly still the echoes cry the old-time New-Years' fame—
A day of doings strenuous, and feats that staggered reason,
When maids and matrons stayed at home and welcomed all who came,
And men bore swift from door to door the greetings of the season.
We've changed all that. We save our strength, and when the new year dawns
We chain the door and fly the town—if we have where to fly it;
If not, we lurk obscure at home, and boast between our yawns
That New-Year's fun's too much like work, and we're too wise to try it.
A day of doings strenuous, and feats that staggered reason,
When maids and matrons stayed at home and welcomed all who came,
And men bore swift from door to door the greetings of the season.
We've changed all that. We save our strength, and when the new year dawns
We chain the door and fly the town—if we have where to fly it;
If not, we lurk obscure at home, and boast between our yawns
That New-Year's fun's too much like work, and we're too wise to try it.
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