How much transcendent genius goes
Unwept, unknown, into the smear
Where ’Vangie lies.
With every opening mail it snows
Till ’Vangie’s covered to her nose.
Forgetting that she is so near,
I sometimes kick her in the ear.
Then sundry piteous ba-a-a’s disclose
Where ’Vangie lies.
“This sale,” advertises a candid clothier, “lasts only so long as the goods last, and that won’t be very long.”