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

Some primal termite knocked on woo
And tasted it, and found it good!
And that is why your Cousin May
Fell through the parlor floor toda

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

There was a young belle of Natche
Whose garments were always in patc
When comment arose
On the state of her clothes,
She drawled, When Ah itchez, Ah

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,