Down stucco sidestreets,
Where light is pewter
And afternoon mist
Brings lights on in shops
Above race—guides and rosaries,
A funeral passes.
 
The hearse is ahead,
But after there follows
A troop of streetwalkers
In wide flowered hats,
Leg—of—mutton sleeves,
And ankle—length dresses.
 
There is an air of great friendliness,
As if they were honouring
One they were fond of;
Some caper a few steps,
Skirts held skilfully
(Someone claps time),
 
And of great sadness also.
As they wend away
A voice is heard singing
Of Kitty, or Katy,
As if the name meant once
All love, all beauty.

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