Prelude
"Take care of the pence; the pounds will take care of themselves."
-- William Lowndes, British Secretary of the Treasury, 1696-1724
"Take care of the sense; the sounds will take care of themselves."
-- Lewis Carroll's Dutchess to Alice in Through the Looking Glass
"Take care of the tents; the towns will take care of themselves."
-- Persian polymath, poet and purported pavilion producer
Omar Khayyam
"Take care of the hence; the hounds will take care of themselves.”
-- A. C. Swinburne, who writes, “When the Hounds of Spring... “
"Take care of the bents; the bounds will take care of themselves."
-- tbd
"Take care of the drench; the drown'ds will take care of themselves"
-- Samuel Taylor Coleridge, who in his "The Rime of the Ancient
Mariner" writes, "...And all the boards did shrink."
Poesy
Appalling chords did plink...?
Our Steinway sounded out of tune.
Who'd haul ass towards the brink...?
Louise 'n' Thelma shoot the moon.
King Saul wields swords of zinc...?
Them Philistines be in a fix.
Post gall, I pour'd in ink...?
My Colorverse/digestive mix.
A stall at Ford's, d'ya think...?
So, where will Honest Abe get shot...?
Why're y'all green gourds dyed pink...?
'Cuz green's too cool while pink is hot.
That moll affords a wink...?
The gangster's girlfriend's mighty fine.
"And all the hordes did stink...?"
Indeed, a glitch in rhyme saves line.
Précis
-pall- chords plink, haul towards brink;
Saul swords zinc, gall pour'd ink.
Stall Ford's think, y'all gourds pink;
moll -fords wink, all hordes stink!
