Where the throngs of people shed their coats,
their hats, and their umbrellas, like Spring beavers,
is where I dwell. Is where the good times become noted.
And I see that in due time, glossier are the smiles,
when the warm wine and spirits seep into them.
Happier days are not counted on business holidays,
because business will always be strictly business.
But find a clan willing to float on the same note of a laugh,
that so jovially sweeps over their hat-less heads,
and there, you will discover a true party.
