Standing on the corner, br He whistles at the girls, br He sticks his left thumb in his belt br And with his right he twirls br The ends of long mustachios br While then he parts his lips br To show his glinting grinning teeth br With golden gleaming tips. br His shimmering shirt of ruddy silk br Is open to his breast br Upon which soft and curly fur br Says, lie here, be my guest. br His leather pants show every hill br And valley, road and seam, br The girls with lowered eyes all see br His pointy boots, a team br Of horses pointing to their feet br And panting for a match, br One stud, two mares, the reins are taut, br A second they must catch br Before life slips behind a cloud, br The evening holds its breath; br And then they pass, the corner gone, br And gone fate worse than death.