And I, a dab at rhymes,
I’d write delirious “ballads,”
While you your bilious salads
Where stitching upon two ells
Of coarsest crass, at times;
If you were skilled at crewels,
And I, a dab at rhymes.
If I were what’s “consummate,”
And you were quite “too too,”
’Twould be our Eldorado