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Ye flags of Piccadilly, Where I posted up and down, And wished myself so often Well away from you and town-- Are the people walking quietly And steady on their feet, Cabs and omnibuses plying Just as usual in the street? Do the houses look as upright As of old they used to be, And does nothing seem affected By the pitching of the sea? Through the Green Park iron railings Do the quick pedestrians pass? Are the little children playing Round the plane-tree in the grass? This squally wild northwester With which our vessel fights, Does it merely serve with you to Carry up some paper kites? Ye flags of Piccadilly, Which I hated so, I vow I could wish with all my heart You were underneath me now!
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