They tell me that euphoria is the
Today I have the agility of a Gre
Yes, today I may even go forth wi
Today I am a swashbuckler, would
This is my euphorian day,

The cow is of bovine ilk;
One end is moo, the other is milk.

Cuckoos lead Bohemian lives,
They fail as husbands and as wives
Therefore they cynically disparage
Everybody else’s marriage.

So Thomas Edison
Never drank his medicine;
So Blackstone and Hoyle
Refused cod-liver oil;
So Sir Thomas Malory

The hands of the clock were reachi
In an old midtown hotel;
I name no name, but its sordid fam
Is table talk in hell.
I name no name, but hell’s own fla

The pig, if I am not mistaken;
Supplies us sausage, ham, and baco
Let others say his heart is big—
I call it stupid of the pig.

The hunter crouches in his blind
‘Neath camouflage of every kind
And conjures up a quacking noise
To lend allure to his decoys
This grown-up man, with pluck and

One thing that literature would be
Would be a more restricted employm
metaphor.
Authors of all races, be they Gre
Can’t seem just to say that anythi

How pleasant to sit on the beach,
On the beach, on the sand, in the
With ocean galore within reach,
And nothing at all to be done!
No letters to answer,

Let’s straighten this out, my litt
And reach an agreement if we can.
I entered your door as an honored
My shoes are shined and my trouser
And I won’t stretch out and read