#AmericanWriters
Whales have calves, Cats have kittens, Bears have cubs, Bats have bittens, Swans have cygnets,
In January everything freezes. We have two children. Both are sh… This is our January rule: One girl in bed, and one in school… In February the blizzard whirls.
Geniuses of countless nations Have told their love for generatio… Till all their memorable phrases Are common as goldenrod or daisies… Their girls have glimmered like th…
The rhino is a homely beast, For human eyes he’s not a feast. Farwell, farewell, you old rhinoce… I’ll stare at something less prepo…
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 know lots of men who are in love… And to fall out with their loved o… They are conciliatory at every opp… Because all they want is serenity… Yes, many the swain who has finall…
I would live all my life in noncha… Were it not for making a living, w…
How wise I am to have instructed… I am about to volunteer a definiti… Just as I know that there are two… I know that marriage is a legal an… Moreover, just as I am unsure of…
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…
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...
Cuckoos lead Bohemian lives, They fail as husbands and as wives… Therefore they cynically disparage Everybody else’s marriage.
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…
The solitary huntsman No coat of pink doth wear, But midnight black from cap to spu… Upon his midnight mare. He drones a tuneless jingle
Who wants my jellyfish? I’m not sellyfish!
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,