These same old rounds the same old way
Sometimes get very tiring;
And yet a milkman, if he looks,
Can find some things inspiring.
There’s Mrs. A, who’s always proud
Of her small brood of seven;
And next door, Mrs. B declares
Her garden is her heaven.
There’s the way the newly-weds on Elm
Light up each time they smile;
And the crippled kid on down the block
With the never-say-die style.
And don’t forget the Beauty Queen
I knew when she was two;
And Dad. who watched the burg grow up,
Who’ll reminisce with you.
So, when the old route palls a bit,
I tell me: Allez oop!
You’re a vital part of each when you
Place milk upon his stoop.
by Ray Romine Tuesday, September 19, 1950
