Said Jock McBrown to Tam McSmit… “A little bet I’m game to take on… That I can scotch this Shakespear… And prove Will just a stoodge for… Said Tam McSmith to Jock McBrow…

Here lyeth one Who loved the sun; Who lived with zest, Whose work was done, Reward, dear Lord,

My daughter Susie, aged two, Apes me in every way, For as my household chores I do With brooms she loves to play. A scrubbing brush to her is dear;

It was foretold by sybils three that in an air crash he would die. “I’ll fool their prophesy,” said h… “You won’t get me to go on high. Howe’re the need for haste and spe…

My mother she had children five an… While I, least worthy to survive,… She looks at me, I must confess,… My mother is three—score and ten,… You don’t know how it hurts me whe…

Unpenitent, I grieve to state, Two good men stood by heaven’s gat… Saint Peter coming to await. The stopped the Keeper of the Key… Saying: “What suppliants are thes…

Black ants have made a musty mound My purple pine tree under, And I am often to be found, Regarding it with wonder. Yet as I watch, somehow it;s odd,

With barbwire hooch they filled hi… Till he was drunker than all hell, And then they peddled him the bull About a claim they had to sell. A thousand bucks they made him pay…

Would it be loss or gain To hapless human—kind If we could feel no pain Of body or of mind? Would it be for our good

I dreamed I saw three demi—gods w… And one was small and crapulous, a… And one was eaten up with vice and… The first he spoke of secret sins,… And velvet cats and courtesans vol…

My destiny it is tonight To sit with pensive brow Beside my study fire and write This verse I’m making now. This Period, this tiny dot

O meadow lark, so wild and free, It cannot be, it cannot be, That men to merchandise your spell Do close you in a wicker hell! O hedgerow thrush so mad with glee…

Tramp, tramp, the grim road, the r… (I’ve 'ammered out this ditty with… Tramp, tramp, the dim road—we didn… And bellies that was ’oller was th… Tramp, tramp, the bad road, the bi…

Folk ask if I’m alive, Most think I’m not; Yet gaily I contrive To till my plot. The world its way can go,

Of bosom friends I’ve had but sev… Despite my years are ripe; I hope they’re now enjoying Heave… Although they’re not the type; Nor, candidly, no more am I,