#AmericanWriters
Though you know it anyhow Listen to me, darling, now, Proving what I need not prove How I know I love you, love. Near and far, near and far,
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,
For years we’ve had a little dog, Last year we acquired a big dog; He wasn’t big when we got him, He was littler than the dog we had… We thought our little dog would lo…
The camel has a single hump; The dromedary, two; Or else the other way around. I’m never sure. Are you?
From whence arrived the praying ma… From outer space, or lost Atlanti… glimpse the grin, green metal mug at masks the pseudo-saintly bug, Orthopterous, also carnivorous,
But he went and tried to borrow some money from Ferdinand But Ferdinand said America was a bird in the bush and he’d rather have a berdinand, And he thought, there is no wife like a m...
Cuckoos lead Bohemian lives, They fail as husbands and as wives… Therefore they cynically disparage Everybody else’s marriage.
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,
O all ye exorcizers come and exorcize now, and ye clergymen draw nigh and clerge, For I wish to be purged of an urge. It is an irksome urge, compounded of nettles and glue, And it is...
Purity Is obscurity.
Bring down the moon for genteel J… She’s too refined for this gross p… She wears garments and you wear cl… You buy stockings, she purchases h… She say That is correct, and you…
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…
This is a song to celebrate banks, Because they are full of money and… you hear is clinks and clanks, Or maybe a sound like the wind in… Which is the rustling of the thous…
Master I may be, But not of my fate. Now come the kisses, too many too… Tell me, O Parcae, For fain would I know,