Yer pimpernel's a flower; yer Tigris is a flower.
Yer April rain's a shower; yer horse what's third's a shower.
Yer minaret's a tower and yer Little Toot's a tower.
I rest me case: this world's a place of pother.
Yer dirty look's a glower; yer lightning bug's a glower.
Yer quarreler's a rower; yer oarsman is a rower.
Yer leafy nook's a bower and yer Robin Hood's a bower.
I'll not deny I wonder why I bother.
Uly Poe pens dogg'rel verse. "'Tis fun," hums Uly, "I disburse." The gamut runs from bad to worse. The matter treated...? Quite diverse -- most, postcards from his universe, replies to grudges he must nurse. My summary...? Let me be terse: a blessing largely. (Not a curse.)
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