The children sing their skipping rhymes
Which bring to mind my childhood streets
In what I'm sure were simpler times
the human heart in iambs beats
But streets and roads and cities grow
as trade advances and retreats
Now city's rhythms ebb and flow
just like a heart that iambs beats
And nations too enlarge and shrink
with victories and then defeats
But through this all without a blink
The human heart in iambs beats