Tell me a tale I’m delighted to hear,
Of how I’m no older than I was last year,
No balder, no grayer, but little more goutish,
As agile, as clean-cut, as stylishly stoutish.
Tell me, O tell me, and when you are through,
It will be my turn to lie about you.
by Ray Romine Saturday, January 31, 1953
