PROLOGUE – THE MAILMAN ANALYZES HIMSELF
I’m p’lite and charming, sweet, and nice–
I spread it thick enough to slice:
I’m cheerful, happy, carefree, gay–
A pity I don’t stay that way!
PART the FIRST–EARLY MORN
To folk who live upon the first
Part of the route that I traverse,
I blithely call,”Good·Morning!” gaily,
I whistle, sing, and do so daily;
My every step is full of spring,
I effervesce, that sort of thing.
With head held high, erect go I,
Full of spirit, Do or Die.. .
To all these folks we idol be,
I, my ma-yil sack, and me.
PART SEC0ND– 10:00 a.m.
To folks along about the middle,
I am a funny sort of riddle:
Today I’m nice, refined, and sound,
Tomorrow, other way around;
One day I grouch, the next I smile,
Tuesday bubble, Wednesday, b’il.
People eye me tentatively–
For they are never sure of me,
As this is my uncertain spot–
Monday cold, and Tuesday, hot;
For whether I’m tired, as yet, or not,
Determines the postman they have got.
PART THIRD–11:45 a.m.
But comes the noon, and I’m half dead;
I’m half alive, but spirit’s fled.
I look and walk and act much older;
My fuel’s low; my fire is colder.
As I approach the nether end,
I’ve passed the place where I unbend;
Keeping upper lip from folding over
Is apt to make one stiff all over.
But ‘tho I may be ment’lly stiffer,
Physically I beg to differ.
I mooch along, half crouch, half stoop;
My necktie withers, shoestrings droop.
I scarcely crawl–I creep, I lag,
I barely move, I fold, I sag
As half I carry and half I drag
The empty but heavier mail-bag.
But O the change, in pefsonality!
From saintly mien to rascality:
I rudely stare at people who
Discuss the rain or sky of blue;
I crab, I frown, I snarl, I growl;
Year-old babies dread my scowl;
Little girls playing with littler brothers
Run and hide behind their mothers.
To folks who’d pass the time of day,
I tell, “Sure, yeah, some other day!”
To all these folks I IDLE be–
(They spell it a wee bit differently).
CONCLUSION
The moral of this small storee
Is that I walk too much for me!
I’d be quite a’ cheerful guy
If half-hour’s an hour had I…
The kind of impression that I give
Depends alone on where you live;
And if you’d like me to improve ;
The best advice I have IS MOVE!
by Ray Romine Saturday, May 1, 1943
