There is something about a Martin
A tingle remarkably pleasant;
A yellow, a mellow Martini;
I wish I had one at present.
There is something about a Martin

This one is entering her teens,
Ripe for sentimental scenes,
Has picked a gangling unripe male,
Sees herself in a bridal veil,
Presses lips and tosses head,

My friends all know that I am shy
But the chipmunk is twice and shy
He moves with flickering indecisio
Like stripes across the television
He’s like the shadow of a cloud,

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

Unwillingly Miranda wakes,
Feels the sun with terror,
One unwilling step she takes,
Shuddering to the mirror.
Miranda in Miranda’s sight

Some singers sing of ladies’ eyes,
And some of ladies lips,
Refined ones praise their ladylike
And course ones hymn their hips.
The Oxford Book of English Verse

I have a bone to pick with fate,
Come here and tell me girly,
Do you think my mind is maturing l
Or simply rotting early.

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.

Tell me, O Octopus, I begs
Is those things arms, or is they l
I marvel at thee, Octopus;
If I were thou, I’d call me Us.

Enter, breath;
Breath, slip out;
Blood, be channeled,
And wind about.
O, blessed breath and blood which