Ninety-Eight In The Shade

Pavements a-frying in street and in square, Never a breeze in the blistering air, Never a place where a fellow can run Out of the shine of the sizzling sun: "General Humidity" having his way, Killing us off by the hundred a day; Mercury climbing the tube like a shot,-- Suffering Caesar! I tell you it's hot!

Collar kerflummoxed all over my neck, Necktie and bosom and wristbands a wreck, Handkerchief dripping and worn to a shred Mopping and scouring my face and my head; Simply ablaze from my head to my feet, Back all afire with the prickles of heat,-- Not on my cuticle one easy spot,-- Jiminy Moses! I tell you it's hot!

Give me a fan and a seat in the shade, Bring me a bucket of iced lemonade; Dress me in naught but the thinnest of clothes, Start up the windmill and turn on the hose: Set me afloat from my toes to my chin, Open the ice-box and fasten me in,-- If it should freeze me, why, that matters not,-- Brimstone and blazes! I tell you it's HOT!

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