“Well, those cars never seem to stop coming (Work and work) Keep those rags and machines humming (Work and work) My fingers to the bone (Work) Can’t wait till it’s time to go home.”
"The morning comes to consciousness
Of faint stale smells of beer
From the sawdust-trampled street
With all its muddy feet that press
To early coffee-stands."
(T.S. Eliot in Preludes no. 2)Liège-Ans (B)
“The houses put their heads together, Talking, perhaps, so dark and sly, Of all the folk they’d seen go by, Children, and men and women, merry all, Who’d some day pass that way to burial.”
(J. Masefield in The Everlasting Mercy) Herstal (B)
