The quantities of CORN you boys DO use–
How CAN you all my stuff refuse??
by Ray Romine Thursday, April 1, 1943
Work Type: Ray Romine Poems
Letter To Miss Smith’s Boy-friend,
Dear Chap who writes his views upon his envelope’s outside:
I can’t ignore you longer, although Heaven knows I’ve tried;
You ask why I don’t ride a bike to rest my feet and stuff:
I got me one I ride to work and back and that’s enough.
About the hot and hungry, Barb is very seldom home
Along about the time I pass, so I just sweat and foam;
Of course, now, if she WERE at home, without a single doubt,
She’d gladly pass me pop and cokes and clean the ice-box out.
You speak of slushy letters–why, my laddie, don’ ya know
I never take THAT KIND to her–NO POSTMAN is THAT SLOW!
You see, old boy, on all you chaps I have the inside track:
I CENSOR all her LETTERS, GOING OUT or COMING BACK!!
–That Mailman!
by Ray Romine Tuesday, July 27, 1943
Let’s Take Up Mythology
Some of the Gods and Goddesses
Had wings upon their heels;
They ran from ritzy raiment
To golden chariot wheels.
Some of them were handsome brutes-
Apollo, say, or Zeus;
They tossed off fancy orgies
At the flimsiest excuse.
One God was Chauffeur to the sun;
And one was Errand Boy;
While Venus and Diana too
Did all right looking coy.
And what, you ask, have all these folks
So august and superior
To do with me, one mere milk man
From rank and file inferior?
My wings are just upon my cap;
Claim no good looks or wealth–
Yet, with the products that I sell,
I’m Messenger of Health!
by Ray Romine Wednesday, September 20, 1950
Let’s See Him Get Around this One
I envy the man who, despite strain and stress,
Always Gets Things Done; but I hereby confess
That I cannot help wondering how he’d progress
Were he handicapped by my own laziness.
by Ray Romine Tuesday, November 14, 1950
Let’s Make An Allowance
A boy will frequently give tongue
For money while he’s very young.
Don’t hesitate to give it to him:
Perhaps a little change is due him.
by Ray Romine Saturday, November 10, 1951
Let’s Hear From The Middle Ages
Whatever life may hold of treasure,
It becomes apparent it’s
Dependent in a generous measure
Now, upon what Time permits.
Life is fine; what stands above it?
But each year there’s a bit less of it…
by Ray Romine Sunday, January 7, 1951
Let’s Go, Says The Family…
“Let’s go!” says the family, and I say, “Go WHERE?”
“Destination’s no object”, they say, “Anywhere”.
Wait’ll Florence doffs her apron and dons her war paint,
Then take us, dear Chevvy, some place that we ain’t!
“I don’t wanna stay home here”, I hear Sandy say;
“Where are we going, dear Daddy, today?
Just wait’ll I drag me a comb through my hair,
And take me, dear Pater, just any-old-where.”
When I ask ’em, “Where to?” they answer, “Aw, g’wan,
Just so we go hither and thither, and yon.”
I hear the clear plea of my Mrs. and Miss,
“Just take us, O Father, someplace besides THIS.”
I fear I’m a flop as a father, all right,
When home’s just a place where we end up at night.
We don’t care WHERE we go, as we climb in the car–
Just so it’s no place where we presently are!
by Ray Romine Sunday, June 20, 1943
Let’s Give Him Credit
Modern man, for his appliances,
Should thank, instead of arts and sciences,
The inventor who laid off gadget-prying
To come up with instalment-buying.
He was outdone, though, by the clown
Who brought us to No Payment Dowm.
by Ray Romine Friday, July 14, 1950
Let’s Face It
“We’ll get a puppy for them:
Won’t that please their eyes?
We’ll take them to the circus–“
We smile, and realize
That children often furnish
Convenient alibis!
by Ray Romine Tuesday, September 27, 1949
Let’s Don’t Debate: Let’s Operate
The dear old system must bear the brunt
Of a Hollywood-type publicity stunt;
I’ve failed before, with showy capers,
But this, tonite should make the papers;
For I, today, am the operatee!
Bring on your old appendectomy;
What if it sounds like hectomy?
Yes, go ahead, remove my tonsil–
If I can’t pay, my uncles and aunts’ll.
Outside of certain notorious flops,
The doctors I have are really tops.
From their operations in ’35,
Hardly a man is now alive;
However, from those of ’37
They might dig up ten or ‘leven.
The nurse says, “Here, you muthn’t thheeth, thir,
You’re about to take thith nathty ether.”
A train approaches suddenly–
And makes a wreck of mental me.
Bring your scalpels, saws and knives–
We shall look into sundry dives:
We’ve got to peek at my pesky bladder;
Gall is bad, but stones are sadder.
We’ll peer, while in there, at my liver,
And weigh it and prod it and watch it quiver.
We’ll take the time out for a lull, sire,
As soon as we scan these stomach ulcers.
We’ll chart these innards, aft and fore,
We’ll make a graph upon the floor;
A concise and clear-cut diagram
Of a lively, bucking diaphragm;
If it gets boring, as such things go,
I’ll beat the doctors at tic-tac-toe.
Or they could tell me, as they saw,
Of the ifs and maybes of Einsteins’s law;
Of the weather, the ball-game, to boats in the harbor
(These chaps are human — just like the barber).
Then when they’ve things row on row,
They take the needle, and sew and sew.
Hours later, I ope a lid,
But I won’t invoice what I did;
For this is missing and that is out–
Lighter and paler? Beyond a doubt.
The nurses give me close attention–
(That they get mine I shouldn’t mention);
All of them are love and kisses:
A well-guy doesn’t know what he misses.
Wait and I’ll tell you, just once more,
About my operation–have I before?
by Ray Romine Wednesday, September 6, 1944