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.)
The Walrus and the Tamarin
Advance to Marvin Gardens.
"Mein Herr," touts Tam, "I bear fruit jam.
Enjoy some, 'fore it hardens."
"Unless it's plum," responds her chum,
"I'll leg it, begging pardons."
The Walrus and the Scorpion,
Two guests at Mobile's Ball,
Sit, by some chance (strange circumstance),
like flowers 'long a wall
When blurts the bug, "Let's cut a rug...
'Less y'all prong'd palps appall."
To Cole…? Mr. Porter, this verse is pour vous.
Let
Coo…? You are hereby allow’d to bill, too.
El
Toco…? A matador famed for his grit.
C’e’t Loo…? “’Tis a bog” – one half Frog, one half Brit.
T.
E. Cool…? One more Lawrence clone -- this one’s a rapper…
Et
Loco…? …and crazy, too – albeit dapper.
Oleo
Ct…? The amount of faux butter.
Ol’
Cote…? Ancient ke-keep for bi-birds. (I stutter.)
Oct.
Leo…? The Lion in Fall, not in Summer.*
“Celt…?
Oo-…”…? This stuff’s Gaelic, a wa-a-ay diff’rent drummer.
Toe
Loc…? Your pinkie’s location (in brief).
'Lo
et Co…? J.Lo’s new corporation’s motif.
* Leo's dates are 7/23 to 8/22, smack dab in the middle of
Summer. An October Leo occurs sometime in the Fall. (Nor, of
course, is he The Lion in Winter.)
Col. Eto...? The Japanese Charge D'affaire.
Co-'otel...? A twin inn nextdoor. Aren't they a pair...?
Le Coot...? Some old bird boasting feathers...or not.
To Cleo...? Hey, Nile Queen! Look what all I've wrought!
CEO Lot…? Bible’s first chief exec.
O’Tolce…? Irish fam’ly -- not Chechen, not Czech.
Cot Olé…? Cheer for bullfighter, bray’d from your bed.
Ocelot…? Careful! That cat’s not been fed.
Coda
This postscript I add as a brief afterthought:
My bolt, anagram-wise, on 'ocelot''s shot!
