Who’s this that lispeth in the thi… Which crowds to claim distinction… Fresh from ‘the palms and temples… The mixed aromas quarrel in his mo… Of orange blossoms this the linger…

Two villains of the highest rank Set out one night to rob a bank. They found the building, looked it… Each window noted, tried each door… Scanned carefully the lidded hole

I’m a gorgeous golden hero And my trade is taking life. Hear the twittle-twittle-tweero Of my sibillating fife And the rub-a-dub-a-dum

O Reverend Ravlin, once with soun… You shook the bloody banner of you… Urged all the fiery boycotters afi… And swore you’d rather follow them… Alas, how brief the time, how grea…

Upon this quarter-eagle’s leveled… The Lord’s Prayer, legibly inscri… 'Our Father which’-the pronoun th… And shows the scribe to have addre… 'Which art in Heaven’-an error th…

O bear me, gods, to some enchanted… Where woman’s tears can antidote h…

Posterity with all its eyes Will come and view him where he li… Then, turning from the scene away With a concerted shrug, will say: 'H’m, Scarabaeus Sisyphus

Daughter of God! Audacity divine Of clowns the terror and of brains… Not thou the inspirer of the rushi… Not thine of idiots the vocal droo… Thy bastard sister of the brow of…

It is a politician man He draweth near his end, And friends weep round that partis… Of every man the friend. Between the Known and the Unknown

You may say, if you please, Johnn… Are crazy to marry your dukes and… But I’ve heard that the maids of… Greet bachelor lords with a favori… Nay, titles, ‘tis said in defense…

When I was young and full of fait… And other fads that youngsters che… A cry rose as of one that saith With emphasis: ‘Help or I perish!… 'Twas heard in all the land, and m…

I ne’er could be entirely fond Of any maiden who’s a blonde, And no brunette that e’er I saw Had charms my heart’s whole warmth to draw.

Father! whose hard and cruel law Is part of thy compassion’s plan, Thy works presumptuously we scan For what the prophets say they saw… Unbidden still the awful slope

In that fair city, Ispahan, There dwelt a problematic man, Whose angel never was released, Who never once let out his beast, But kept, through all the seasons’…

Editor Owen, of San Jose, Commonly known as ‘our friend J.J… Weary of scribbling for daily brea… Weary of writing what nobody read, Slept one day at his desk and drea…