There's Pippins and Cheese to Come

A wandering narrator drifts through a bustling city, half‑hungry and half‑amused, pausing at a gaudy tavern where brass mirrors reflect red‑cheeked patrons and the kitchen erupts like a witch’s cauldron. The description of a massive roast surrounded by a moat of gravy becomes a comic battlefield, while busboys juggle dishes and waiters shout incomprehensible orders. The scene captures the absurdity of dining out in an era when even a simple meal feels like a theatrical performance.

Further along, the protagonist passes a window of sizzling pancakes performed for an eager crowd, then a sleepy golden dragon guarding a second‑story Chinese eatery whose former German décor still peeks through. The narrator muses on the peculiar habit of upstairs Chinese restaurants, the clash of cultures in the décor, and the glittering shop windows that tempt the eye with fashionable wares. All the while, a lingering melancholy hints at deeper urban mysteries, inviting listeners to wander and wonder.