|Oh, Tennyson, immortal bard!
I read your poems by the yard.
And while I prize them at their worth,
I think if you were back on earth
And saw the clothes the women wear
You'd likely be compelled to swear
That it was genius misapplied,
When you composed Godiva's Ride.
Your heroine rode through the town
And didn't even wear a gown:
But golden tresses, rightly placed,
Are thicker than a seemore waist;
And had the men exposed an eye
As she was calmly riding by
One leg was all they could have seen
For Dobbin's hulk was in between;
But now, when we look anywhere,
'Tis nothing strange to see a pair.
And Peeping Tom___unlucky soul___
Would not have bored an auger hole
And rubbered through it from his den,
Had he lived now instead of then.
Godiva rode the taxes down
In Coventry, that ancient town;
But now it's just the other way,
Our bills are higher every day.
In summer heat or winter frosts,
The less they wear, the more it costs.
Verdigris Valley Verse
(Coffeyville, Kansas: The Journal Press. 1917)