I personally abhor the guy who pulls his car out in
front o’ ya;
Then, when you beep at his idiocy, he looks injured as if
to say What have I dunta ya?
Talk about fools rushing in where angels fear to tread,
Why he’ll try to put an Eight-cylinder maroon paint-job
into a space that wouldn’t decently accomodate our
daughter’s trundle-bed.
And as for that wheeze about giving him an inch and he’ll take a yard–
He not only does, but has learned to do it with a Gangway,
it’s MY street, pard. Or should I say bard?
Lots of faith is what it takes:
HIS faith is a monstrous thing, considering the condition
of my brakes.
You may not agree but all the same
I think ‘higher’ education is to blame:
In present-day colleges,
Instead of absorbing knowledges,
Your student spends months mastering a game known as basketball,
in which the other side is wrecked
By his squeezing himself through holes you couldn’t push an ice-pick through, and being called a ‘forward’ for years, so what can you expect?
by Ray Romine Friday, January 28, 1944
