0 fly that zings and swoops and dips,
I wish you warts upon your hips,
B.O., flat feet and poison ivy
For being insolent and divey.
Noah should have quickly swatted
When your two great-grandfolks he caughted.
He must have suffered some from boredom
Utterly to have ignored ’em.
He willed me you–you and your spouse
Specking here and there my house,
And hence I’m forced to say you rate
Some really rather dreadful fate–
Say hang-nails, toothache, baldness, bunions,
And breath that reeks of opened onions.
I hope you fail, and hit the skids,
And have less than a million kids!
by Ray Romine Wednesday, September 5, 1951
