Verses running through my head–
Suppose they will be ’til I’m dead.
Crazy, lousy, witless verse
Doesn’t fatten up my purse;
Couplets, meter, feet and rhyme–
Awful how they take my time.
Still my mind will turn to verse
Ain’t it awful? Goodnight nurse!
Even do it in my sleep,
‘S’nough to make the devil weep.
Wifey thinks it’s some disease
Working on me at its ease.
Maybe so, for all I know
But don’t you think we all should go
To feeling sorry for my wife?
She’s doomed to hear it ALL HER LIFE!
by Ray Romine Thursday, January 25, 1934
