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.
Poet Poe pens nonsense verse. "...plus phun," puns Uly, "I disburse." Its gamut runs from spam to worse. The matter posted...? Poe's diverse -- most, postcards from his universe, replies to grudges he must nurse. My summary...? Let me be terse: a mitzva, mostly. (Not a curse.)
Sunday, February 4, 2018
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Rev'd Spooner Meets Rev'd Carroll
He sought to thaw each thought he saw flee, frozen, from his mind. He peer'd again, then gear'd his pen, supposin' he'd...
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PWWL is pleased to acknowledge the participation of friend-of-blog JD in creating this item. Collaboration in name, collaboration in pro...
