Chapter I

In winter I get up at night, And dress by an electric light. In summer, autumn, ay, and spring, I have to do the self-same thing.

I have to go to bed and hear Pianos pounding in my ear, And hear the janitor cavort With garbage cans within the court.

And does it not seem hard to you That I should have these things to do? Is it not hard for us Manhat- Tan children in a stuffy flat?