Sitting in the dentist’s chair, Wishing that I wasn’t there, To forget and pass the time I have made this bit of rhyme. I had a rendez—vous at ten;
Because back home in Tennessee I was a champeen shot, They made a sniper outa me An’ ninety krouts I got: I wish to Christ I’d not!
O Sacred Muse, my lyre excuse! — My verse is vagrant singing; Rhyme I invoke for simple folk Of penny—wise upbringing: For Grannies grey to paste away
Just think! some night the stars w… Upon a cold, grey stone, And trace a name with silver beam, And lo! 'twill be your own. That night is speeding on to greet
A hundred years is a lot of living I’ve often thought. and I’ll know… Some day if the gods are good in g… And grant me to turn the century. Yet in all my eighty years of bein…
That boy I took in the car last n… With the body that awfully sagged… And the lips blood—crisped, and th… And the poor hands folded and cold… Oh, I’ve thought and I’ve thought…
“Black is the sky, but the land is… (O the wind, the snow and the stor… Father, where is our boy to—night? Pray to God he is safe and warm.” “Mother, mother, why should you fe…
Lone amid the café’s cheer, Sad of heart am I to—night; Dolefully I drink my beer, But no single line I write. There’s the wretched rent to pay,
“The aristocratic ne’er—do—well in… into the ranks of the Royal North… Hark to the ewe that bore him: “What has muddied the strain? Never his brothers before him
Moko, the Educated Ape is here, The pet of vaudeville, so the post… And every night the gaping people… To see him in his panoply appear; To see him pad his paunch with dai…
Never knew Jim, did you? Our boy… Bless you, there was the likely la… Supple and straight and long of li… Clean as a whistle, and just as gl… Always laughing, wasn’t he, dad?
I wish I had a simple style In writing verse, As in his prose had Ernie Pyle, So true and terse; Springing so forthright from the h…
The Shorter Catechism I burned my fingers on the stove And wept with bitterness; But poor old Auntie Maggie strove To comfort my distress.
Says I to my Missis: “Ba goom, l… Says she: “You are right, Sam, I… A Boil as ‘ud make Job jealous.… Says I: “Go to ‘ospittel, Missis… Says she: “I just 'ate to be show…
Deeming that I were better dead, “How shall I kill myself?” I said… Thus mooning by the river Seine I sought extinction without pain, When on a bridge I saw a flash