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,

Any hound a porcupine nudges
Can’t be blamed for harboring grud
I know one hound that laughed all
At a porcupine that sat on a splin

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

My fellow man I do not care for.
I often ask me, What’s he there f
The only answer I can find
Is, Reproduction of his kind.
If I’m supposed to swallow that,

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

The Lord in His wisdom made the f
And then forgot to tell us why.

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,

Go hang yourself, you old M.D.!
You shall not sneer at me.
Pick up your hat and stethoscope,
Go wash your mouth with laundry so
I contemplate a joy exquisite

People expect old men to die,
They do not really mourn old men.
Old men are different. People loo
At them with eyes that wonder when
People watch with unshocked eyes;

I’ve never seen an abominable snow
I’m hoping not to see one,
I’m also hoping, if I do,
That it will be a wee one.