As we found ourselves not comme il faut.
We planned and we wondered and craftily pondered
A plan of reprisal for quits,
Then we thought if we waited real patient, more sated,
We’d be than to throw fifty fits.
No haste and bad temper, not even a whimper;
We’d watch and we’d wait and we’d hope;
We’d give him good tether, the stuffer, the bluffer,
He’d hang himself high with the rope.
Now slow was the turning, and with envy burning,