Hamilton Fish Armstrong, ed. The Book of New York Verse. 1917.
MacaroniArthur Guiterman
’T
Although I confess to the dawnings
Of doubt how they mix it in Avenue A
Before it is dried in the awnings.
Alluringly drape it and coil it;
But don’t be afraid, for the microbes are dead
As nails when you properly boil it.
To see how the diners assail it!
Some mince it, some reel up its lengths on a fork,
While others devoutly inhale it.
Or, maybe, to “Santa Lucia’s.”
All poets agree it is good for the brains.
The best may be had at Maria’s.
Than any place mentioned by Dante,
Then, quickly! Beppino, with plenty of cheese,
And don’t you forget the Chianti!