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Professional Zealousy

A more determined man than a zoologist in his quest for armadillo or panther
Is your zealous botanist, because he won’t take no for an
anther.
Let us proceed to change the subject entirely at this point,
and consider why the pun, even if it’s a beaut,
Is firmly embedded in ill-repute.

It’s alright with me if it’s the lowest form of humor,
Because this admits it’s human therefore funny; and however low, I refuse to treat it like a malignant tumor .
And don’t forget that the Bard himself, while his contemporaries
were busy at playing badminton, Canasta, or sunning,
was bent over a much-chewed quill , punning.

Which, considering Shakespeare’s no mean ability ,
Should give the pun some semblance of respectability.

However, notwithstanding Bill’s efforts, a survey today discloses
That people who encounter puns go around holding their
well-bred noses.

As for myself, while I don’t mind the pun itself, especially
if it’s a stunner,
I am apt to get a wee bit provoked at the punner,

And wish he were heckled, chigger-ridden,under- estimated,
and when he rides a train, upper-berthed,
For pulling that pun before I thought of it ferthed!

by Ray Romine Monday, July 24, 1950

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Pillar

She wasn’t exactly pretty,
So I was a little cold;
I didn’t perceive as I turned to leave
That she owned a heart of gold.

There’s a six-by-six in our basement
That isn’t much to see;
But, heaven be praised, till the building is razed,
It’s our priceless guarantee!

by Ray Romine Tuesday, October 15, 1946

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Oh For An Able Table!

I’m darned if I’m contented
With the tables they’ve invented–
Oh some, of course, are beauties,
But they’re shirking in their duties
When there is no room beneath ’em for MY FEET.

Though my Elevens may be prizes,
Feet come in assorted sizes;
And I claim a decent table
Should be willing, yea, and able
To accomodate my tootsies WHILE I EAT.

In the store we drool, and love ’em
For the ample room above ’em;
But you’ll find they’re cramped below ’em
When you get one of ’em hoem,
If you sit, and try to swallow bread and meat.

Now the moral of my story:
If you’d cover you with glory,
Lift the ordinary table
From the mire–
Build it bigger, build a master,
Build it wider, build it vaster;
Even though you build it gloomier,
Build it healthy build it roomier–
So us guys (with feet) to food can get us nigher!

–P.S.–
As a guy in 1-A, though I’m glad I’m around
Using ANY OLD TABLE instead of the GROUND!

by Ray Romine Tuesday, March 28, 1944