Category: Poems

Mild and humble little servant,
In a genteel sort of way:
That, a year ago, described it–
It’s of little use today.

Raise, but gently, the receiver,
Hear the conversation buzz?
Try again in half-an-hour–
Ten to one it’s like it was.

It’s our neighbor, Joe, now, spouting
To the world his rabid views;
Or, it may be Grandma Finlay
With her broadcast of the news.

Could be Sadie and her boy-friend,
Who live Just a block apart;
Or it’s Milton and his Draft-Board–
He’s in 1-A, bless his heart.

Yes, it could be quite important,
But it very seldom is;
Though I guess our line’s so crowded
Due to Uncle Samuel’s biz.

Friends who try in vain to get you,
Precipitate an aftermath,
For the call will come through, finally,
As you’re sitting in the bath.

Let’s suppose you need a doctor,
Your lumbago has you down–
Do not phone, for walking’s quicker,
Though Doc’s all the way uptown.

And your grocery-getting’s faster
If you walk instead of phone,
Or to date your friend the dentist,
Or engage a chaperone.
Or to buy a xylophone.
Or a wedding to postpone.
Or to hock your saxophone.
Monotonous, isn’t it?

If you’d ask the Jones’s over,
And you want ’em ere you’re dead,
If you’re gonna telephone ’em,
Start to call a month ahead.

If you find the house afire, why
Don’t get r’iled, or give a durn–
Since you KNOW the line is busy
Just keep cool, and let ‘er burn.

It’s a most expensive fixture
Hanging there upon the wall;
Fully every bit as useful
Were a picture, after all.

So I figure it’s a custom
That has long upon us grown;
And I’m sure, it’s just from habit
That we PAY for telephone!

by Ray Romine Tuesday, July 20, 1943