A face that I can ne’er forget,
No matter how I try,
Is the one that from the mirror stares:
0 what a vain boy am I.
How tired I get of things each day
Seen over and over again;
Why shouldn’t I oughtta this mug of mine
Be getting sick of, then?
Well, p’raps I am, a little bit,
And maybe a change’d be welcome–
But, being male, I’ll spoil the face,
And spare the rouge and telme.
by Ray Romine Monday, April 26, 1943
