#AmericanWriters
As I was going to St. Ives I met a man with seven lives; Seven lives, In seven sacks, Like seven beeves
Senescence begins And middle age ends The day your descendents Outnumber your friends.
The hunter crouches in his blind ‘Neath camouflage of every kind And conjures up a quacking noise To lend allure to his decoys This grown-up man, with pluck and…
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,
The camel has a single hump; The dromedary, two; Or else the other way around. I’m never sure. Are you?
I find it very difficult to enthus… Over the current news. Just when you think that at least… And that is why I do not like the…
Candy Is Dandy But liquor Is quicker.
May I join you in the doghouse, R… I wish to retire till the party’s… Since three o’clock I’ve done my… To entertain each tiny guest. My… And if they want me, let them find…
The firefly’s flame Is something for which science has… I can think of nothing eerier Than flying around with an unident… person’s posteerier.
When I remember bygone days I think how evening follows morn; So many I loved were not yet dead… So many I love were not yet born.
Oh, weep for Mr. and Mrs. Bryan! He was eaten by a lion; Following which, the lion’s liones… Up and swallowed Bryan’s Bryaness…
The song of canaries Never varies, And when they’re moulting They’re pretty revolting.
Children aren’t happy with nothing… And that’s what parents were creat…
Purity Is obscurity.
Consider the auk; Becoming extinct because he forgot… Consider man, who may well become… Because he forgot how to walk and…