Bohemian Ups And Downs

Way up in a garret high, Just a few feet from the sky, Dwell I in Bohemia. What care I for aught below? There have I nor friend nor foe; Pity I the struggling throng While I live my life of song Up here in Bohemia. 'Tween my teeth my briar root -- Best of friends, since always mute -- Rare thing in Bohemia. Upward as the thick smoke curls What care I for simp'ring girls? Love is weak; my pipe is strong, Why for love, then, be the song Sung here in Bohemia? Oft my little songs fall flat, Hungry? What care I for that, Fasting in Bohemia? Put my only coat in pawn, Live on that and still sing on; Puff my pipe and think I've dined -- Barmecidal feasts I find Often in Bohemia. Haply, then, my rhymelets take, With a check my fast to break, Feast we in Bohemia. 'Round the corner of the block, Sign o'erhead a crowing cock, Mug of beer and sandwich fine; What care we how nabobs dine, Feasting in Bohemia. Friends have I, some three or four -- Quite enough, for who has more, In or out Bohemia? With them joy is always young, Grief is but a song that's sung; Live we, laugh we debonair, Skies are bright and winds are fair Always in Bohemia!