By the shores of Hudson River,
By the shining Big-wet-Water,
Stood the Brownstone of Neronis,
Father of the Orchids, Neronis.
Dark behind it rose the city,
Rose the black and gloomy buildings,
Rose the towers bright lights upon them;
Bright before them lay the brownstone
Beat the clear and littered streets,
Beat the shining Big-wet-Water.
There the portly old Neronis
Pontificated to his Archie,
Preaching of the records germane,
Germination record keeping.
Who is this, that lights the brownstone?
With his great eyes lights the brownstone?
Many things Neronis taught him
Of the solving mysteries not of heaven;
At the door on summer evenings,
Sat the Archie watching, listening;
To the whispering of the taxis,
To the rushing of the waters,
Waiting for the sounds of clients
Wishing for the sounds of clients
Wanting for the rush of clients
Coming cash-rich to replenish
Replenish funds so now diminished
Since the Tax Man last he Cometh.