“Beep-beep.
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When comes my second childhood,

Parsley
Is gharsley.

Geniuses of countless nations
Have told their love for generatio
Till all their memorable phrases
Are common as goldenrod or daisies
Their girls have glimmered like th

Song of the Open Road
I think that I shall never see
A billboard as lovely as a tree.
Perhaps unless the billboards fall
I’ll never see a tree at all.

Being a father
Is quite a bother.
You are as free as air
With time to spare,
You’re a fiscal rocket

The solitary huntsman
No coat of pink doth wear,
But midnight black from cap to spu
Upon his midnight mare.
He drones a tuneless jingle

The camel has a single hump;
The dromedary, two;
Or else the other way around.
I’m never sure. Are you?

Oh, “rorty” was a mid-Victorian w
Which meant “fine, splendid, jolly
And often to me it has reoccurred
In moments melancholy.
For instance, children, I think i

Higgledy piggledy, my black hen,
She lays eggs for gentlemen.
Gentlemen come every day
To count what my black hen doth la
If perchance she lays too many,

Candy
Is dandy,
But liquor
Is quicker