Explore "The Botticello" by Hugh Lofting on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
In Florence Signor Quaverello / Would play the four-string botticello / Every single Sunday night, 'tis said.
Until his wife upstairs would bellow / "You noisy, good-for-nothing fellow! / "Hello! / "Quaverello! / "Put that thing away and come to bed! "