THOUGHTS THOUGHT WHILST THINKIN’ OF PEARY ON A HOT SUMMER DAY
O Peary! With the scorchin’ summer here And everybody payin’ double price For little weeny, teeny bits of ice, It dost no longer seem so very queer That thou shouldst have the bravery to steer Thy ship up North where it is cool and nice. I’ll bet you smile whilst thinkin’ thou hast twice The fun we’re havin’ at this time of year.
And, say! old boy, since thou dost understand The pole is an imaginary spot, Why not “imagine” thou hast found it and Of time and trouble save an awful lot? Couldst others track thee to that frozen land And prove thou didst not find it? I guess not!
THOUGHTS THOUGHT WHILST THINKIN’ OF A THANKSGIVIN’ DAY TURKEY
O Eagle! emblem of my country, thou, Who art the boss of every other bird, My muse, to find the highfalutin word With which to name thee, dost not know just how. Yet ’tis not thee who hast, I must allow, My patriotic breast the deepest stirred, And they who planned our country’s banner erred In makin’ thee the sign to which we bow.
For whilst, O Eagle, thou dost dare to climb The highest mountain peak and greet the sun, It is the turkey that dost nearest rhyme With all the lofty thrills that through us run; He beats thee to a standstill every time, For, stuffed and roasted--say! he takes the bun!
SONNET WROTE WHILST THINKIN’ OF MY SISTER MAYMIE’S HOMELY BEAU
O Love! ’Tis saidst that thou art blind. Alas! I didst not think that it wast truly so Until I saw my sister Maymie’s beau Who’s awful stingy and as green as grass! How love canst make such guys as he is pass For something beautiful, I dost not know. Hadst I my way, you bet! he’d stand no show Of settin’ in our parlor wastin’ gas.
He steals things, too! Last night whilst in a nook Of our dark hall I heardst him say: “Alack! I must steal one!” This morn I went’st to look And found’st all our umbrellas in the rack, And so I guess whatever ’twast he took, My sister Maymie madest him give it back.
LINES WROTE WHILST RECOVERIN’ FROM AN ACCIDENT CAUSED BY A HORNET
O Hornet! When I think’st what thou canst do To make strong men just hump themselves and run, Men who wouldst boldly face a ten-inch gun But lack the “sand” to halt whilst you pursue, And deem’st thy stinger something they wouldst rue, I’ve wondered if, when things that weigh a ton Flee from thy wrath, thou dost not deem it fun To chase folks that are so much bigger ’n you.