De pridges risen all aroundt
So quaindly, left und right,
Pedween each pridge und shattow, lies,
A lemon of yellow light,
Und das volk a-goin ober,
So darklin onwarts pass,
Dey look like Chinese shattows—shown
Apofe a lookin-glass.

All shdiller grows, und shdiller,
Sogar die efenin preeze,
Ish only heardt far ober het
In dese long lines of drees;
A real oldt Holland feelin
Cooms gadderin ober all,
You’d nefer dink a sturm hat peen
Oopon dis Grand Canawl.

De nople houses!—how dey’d mofe
An old New Yorker’s heart,
Time vas—’twix dese und dose at home
You couldn’t tell ’em part,
Mit crate brass knockers on de toors,
Und parlors town so low
You see de crates a glowin prite
O’er carbets ash you go.

Dere’s comfort-full of avery dings,
You veel it ash you look,
You knows de volks ish opulend,
Und keep a bully cook;
Und oopon de high camine,
Or here und dere on shelf,
Dere’s Japanesisch dings in rows,
Pe mingled oop mit delf.

Dere’s noding in dis Holland life,
Vitch seems of present day,
De fery shildren in de shdreeds
Look quaintlich as dey blay;
De liddle rosy housemaids,
In bicdures vell I know,
De dames und heers hafe all an air
Of sixdy years ago.

They may dalk of anciendt hishdory
Und for romantisch seek,
De ding dat mofes most teeply ish
Old-vashioned—not antique.
O if you live in Leyden town
You’ll meet, if troot’ pe told,
De forms of all de freunds who tied
Vhen du werst six years old.