The rubber plant was rubb'ring round
In a manner most absurd:
The long green corn prickled up her ears
And this is what she heard:
"Wot's tomato wid you, you beat?"
Asked the onion of the hash,
"I'm jealous of the potato,
Because he's got a mash.
"He is stuck on the honeycomb,
And suits her to a tea,
I used to be in love myself,
But the cream has soured on me."
"Why do you call your dog hardware?"
"Because when I go to whip him he makes a bolt for the door."
Husband—That ice box of ours reminds me of a good pinochle player.
Wife—Why?