Nobody cried about me, said the old waiter,

Nobody cried when I left home.

I learned my trade in the old country,

I was ready to work at seventeen.

Nothing I haven't seen, he said.

Everywhere in the world, he said.

All the big boats. London. Everywhere.

I would go home, but the war.

My people are dead in the old country.

Eat more of the dark bread, 's gut,

Try a little of the mustard on meat.

Nobody who comes here, he said,

For the old cheese and the cold beer,

Comes so far from home.

Hamburg. Valparaiso. San Francisco. Rome.

Everywhere in the world, he said.

There were princesses like gold, he said,

We ran, ran, with the big platters,

And never heard our feet on the stairs.

You should see, like reading a book.

Everywhere in the world, he said.

My people are all dead in the old country.