Song of the Open Road
I think that I shall never see
A billboard as lovely as a tree.
Perhaps unless the billboards fall
I’ll never see a tree at all.

Who wants my jellyfish?
I’m not sellyfish!

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,

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.

A mighty creature is the germ,
Though smaller than a pachyderm.
His customary dwelling place
Is deep within the human race.
His childish pride he often please

As I was going to St. Ives
I met a man with seven lives;
Seven lives,
In seven sacks,
Like seven beeves

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

People live forever in Jacksonvil
But you don’t have to live forever
The entrance requirements for gram
You only have to live until your c
From that point on you start looki

Candy
is dandy
But liquor
is quicker

Behold the hippopotamus!
We laugh at how he looks to us,
And yet in moments dank and grim,
I wonder how we look to him.
Peace, peace, thou hippopotamus!