| The golden summer weather is the time to swat the
fly And in the spring we long to see the dandelions die; In winter there's the fellow who will foolishly entice A poor benighted brother through a thin place in the ice. It seems that every season has some things we'd rather miss; Without them our existence would be one round of bliss. But while we must endure them, there comes the thought sublime That each will run its dreaded course in Just a little time. The things of short duration do not fret me any more They are nothing to the fellow with the deep, re- dundant snore. For the snorer is not governed by the changes of the moon; 'Tis every night throughout the year he sings his dole- ful tune, And while he wildly saws the air it makes me toss and weep And softly breathe a cuss word because I cannot sleep. He goes from bass to treble and from treble back to bass, The while I woo the drowsy god by lying on my face. O, I long to see him wafted to the dark, Plutonian shore, For my soul abhors the fellow with the syncopated snore. |
Verdigris Valley Verse
Albert Stroud
(Coffeyville, Kansas: The Journal Press. 1917)
Page 86
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