Though bandsmen's notes from the street below resound,
And the voices of jubilant masses proclaim a glorious holiday,
I painstakingly pick out words on the typewriter,
By fits and starts, thinking up a story about the great Metropolitan tenor.
The typewriter keys now hold no rhythmic tingle.
But the local manager in Iowa wants the story.
He has engaged the great tenor for a date next March
When the Tuesday musicale ladies give their annual benefit for the Shriners.
He wants the concert to be such a success,
That his Iowan town will henceforth be in the foreground
Of Iowan towns, as far as music is concerned.
So he has wired in for this tale about the singer,
A story about his wife and baby, and what the baby eats per diem.
And though the call is to the street below,
Where jubilant masses proclaim the holiday,
I must finish the story about the tenor's wife and baby
To put the Iowan town in the foreground, as far as music is concerned.