Carl Rakosi, 6 November 2003
There is the mordant voice from the back alleys of Paris, Villon with Diogenes in his eye,
and Robin Starveling, the tailor (he goes with my proletarian bent)
and Tom Snout, the tinker (he goes with my ironic nature although Francis Flute, the bellows-mender is more fanciful),
and the voice of the young wife explaining to her close friend why she had chosen this man for a husband:...