Poetry of Kansas

The Snorer

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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March 25, 2003 / John & Susan Howell / Wichita, Kansas / howell@kotn.org

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