In Baltimore there lived a boy.
He wasn’t anybody’s joy.
Although his name was Jabez Dawes
His character was full of flaws.
In school he never led his classes

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

Beneath this slab
John Brown is stowed.
He watched the ads
And not the road.

Peekabo, I Almost See You
Middle-aged life is merry, and I
But there comes a day when your ey
And your friends get jocular, so y
And of all your friends he is the

Purity
Is obscurity.

Who is the happy husband? Why, in
'Tis he who’s useless in the time
Who, asked to unclasp a bracelet o
Contrives to be utterly futile, fu
Or when a zipper nips his loved on

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,

There is a knocking in the skull,
An endless silent shout
Of something beating on a wall,
And crying, “Let me out!”
That solitary prisoner

I sit in the dusk. I am all alone
Enter a child and an ice-cream con
A parent is easily beguiled
By sight of this coniferous child.
The friendly embers warmer gleam,

Be it a girl, or one of the boys,
It is scarlet all over its avoirdu
It is red, it is boiled; could the
Have possibly been a lobstertricia
His degrees and credentials were h