Any hound a porcupine nudges
Can’t be blamed for harboring grud
I know one hound that laughed all
At a porcupine that sat on a splin

The summer like a rajah dies,
And every widowed tree
Kindles for Congregationalist eye
An alien suttee.

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

This is my dream,
It is my own dream,
I dreamt it.
I dreamt that my hair was kempt.
Then I dreamt that my true love u

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

A shrimp who sought his lady shrim
Could catch no glimpse
Not even a glimp.
At times, translucence
Is rather a nuisance.

Go hang yourself, you old M.D.!
You shall not sneer at me.
Pick up your hat and stethoscope,
Go wash your mouth with laundry so
I contemplate a joy exquisite

Some people, and it doesn’t matter

A flea and a fly in a flue
Were imprisoned, so what could the
Said the fly, “let us flee!”
“Let us fly!” said the flea.
So they flew through a flaw in the

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.