Last Sunday was Memorial Day,
The Whites, they came to visit–
Which in itself is not enough
To hatch a pome, or is it?
The Whites (just Two), they used to come:
We Four would talk, and listen
The while the other fella told
The things that we’d been missin’.
But Decoration Day they came,
And brung a family with ’em:
Farewell to peaceful talk of yore–
Goodbye to Four-way rhythm!
For Barbara from the upstairs howled,
(Who’d bedded been, quite cozy)
While from in front, tied to a tree,
There yapped their doggie, Rosey.
Between the howls, the yaps, and yowls,
The uproar and commotion, ยท
The Whites, we heard, were very Well,
(Or so we had a notion).
But harder STILL to understand–
You’ll prob’ly think me nosey–
Would not small Barbara Ann hve been
SUFFICIENT, without ROSEY??
by Ray Romine Monday, June 7, 1943
