Spanish Men

The Men of Seville are, they say, The laziest of Spain. Consummate artists in delay, Allergical to strain; Fr if you have a job for them, And beg them to be spry, They only look at you with phlegm: "Mañana," they reply. The Men of gay Madrid, I'm told, Siesta's law revere; The custom is so ages old, And to tradition dear; So if you want a job done soon, And shyly ask them: "When?" They say: "Come back this afternoon: We'll hope to do it them." The Men of Barcelona are Such mostly little caps, That when you see them from afar They make you think of Japs; Yet they can take life on the run, Quite peppy, I'll allow, For when there's something to be done, They shout: "We'll do it NOW."