The cymbals whang,

The kettledrums bang:--

# In this passage the reading or chanting

is shriller and higher. #

"Clear the street,

Clear the street,

Clear the street--Boom, boom.

In the evening gloom,

In the evening gloom,

Give the engines room,

Give the engines room,

Lest souls be trapped

In a terrible tomb."

The sparks and the pine-brands

Whirl on high

From the black and reeking alleys

To the wide red sky.

Hear the hot glass crashing,

Hear the stone steps hissing.

Coal black streams

Down the gutters pour.

There are cries for help

From a far fifth floor.

For a longer ladder

Hear the fire-chief call.

Listen to the music

Of the firemen's ball.

Listen to the music

Of the firemen's ball.

# To be read or chanted in a heavy bass. #

"'Tis the

NIGHT

Of doom,"

Say the ding-dong doom-bells.

"NIGHT

Of doom,"

Say the ding-dong doom-bells.

Faster, faster

The red flames come.

"Hum grum," say the engines,

"Hum grum grum."

# Shriller and higher. #

"Buzz, buzz,"

Says the crowd.

"See, see,"

Calls the crowd.

"Look out,"

Yelps the crowd

And the high walls fall:--

Listen to the music

Of the firemen's ball.

Listen to the music

Of the firemen's ball.

# Heavy bass. #

"'Tis the

NIGHT

Of doom,"

Say the ding-dong doom-bells.

"NIGHT

Of doom,"

Say the ding-dong doom-bells.

Whangaranga, whangaranga,

Whang, whang, whang,

Clang, clang, clangaranga,

# Bass, much slower. #

Clang, clang, clang.

Clang--a--ranga--

Clang--a--ranga--

Clang,

Clang,

Clang.

Listen--to--the--music--

Of the firemen's ball--

Section Two

"Many's the heart that's breaking

If we could read them all

After the ball is over." (An old song.)

# To be read or sung slowly and softly,

in the manner of lustful, insinuating music. #

Scornfully, gaily

The bandmaster sways,

Changing the strain

That the wild band plays.

With a red and royal intoxication,

A tangle of sounds

And a syncopation,

Sweeping and bending

From side to side,

Master of dreams,

With a peacock pride.

A lord of the delicate flowers of delight

He drives compunction

Back through the night.

Dreams he's a soldier

Plumed and spurred,

And valiant lads

Arise at his word,

Flaying the sober

Thoughts he hates,

Driving them back

From the dream-town gates.

How can the languorous

Dancers know

The red dreams come

# To be read or chanted slowly and softly

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