There once lived a cantankerous but persistent person named–of all
things –Dewey Dubbledum
Who resented his name exceedingly because it rhymed with Bubblegum,
Which product , let us hasten to explain,
Was to Dewey a great obnoxiousness,or, in words of one syllable, a pain.
He cried aloud, that, for youth’s sake,
No mfgr. should be allowed to cause an innocent child to go about with
distended jaws, resembling a Walrus with tooth’s ache.
And when some kid would splatter a huge bubble over his lips, face,
and costume (his dressiest),
Dewey would as like as not inform him My God kid, of all the brats I
ever saw you are the messiest.
And he’d been known to exclaim to a little 6-year old girl, when
sufficiently goaded ,
Sister you look like you came out of a lighter-than- air-craft freshly
exploded.
Not just the sight, mind you, but the sound too
Was most distracting, since Round One was the out-loud mastication of
the gum, but the popping of the bubble was Round Two .
And, as if all this weren’t enough,
If he didn’t watch himself or rather his step he’d walk in the
discarded stuff.
Finally it all got so bad Dewey’s nerves hadn’t a chance , sir,
For he couldn’t take a Bubble-bath, look at a Champagne ad, or even
watch a Bubble-dancer.
Then, one day, he met a little ragamuffin all gobbed up and chewey,
Which was the last straw, for Dewey,
Who leaned over in desperation, that’s all there was to it,
And asked the boy Why-O- Why do you blow hideous bubbles with that
awful stuff, and was stopped dead still in his tracks with Can you
do it?
Whereupon Dewey took his nickel, intended for street-car fare,
Bought a package of B.G., and walked home, since he needed the air.
Now he may not be blowing perfect bubbles with his gum there in his
new room at the Institution, number nyan-six-nyan,
But he ‘s working on his 93rd package of the stuff, so he’s still in
there tryin.
by Ray Romine Tuesday, September 23, 1947
