I’m sure it was a huge success,
With food just short of Heaven;
But I couldn’t make it–flu, I guess-
I was in bed by seven.
I’m glad the speaker knew his etuff
(He came well recommended);
But friends dropped in and made me muff
The exit I’d intended.
I didn’t know which suit to wear;
I had to wash and set my hair;
I smashed a thumb;
I tore my shirt;
My tire was flat;
My arches hurt;
I had to work;
I broke a nail;
I helped a friend
Get out on bail;
And what we’d thought were harmless bumps,
Turned out on daughter to be mumps!
With all these tempting alibis
Conveniently before me,
Shall I, ignoring patent lies,
Just say, “These shindigs bore me”?
by Ray Romine Wednesday, May 2, 1945
