POETRY: A Magazine of Verse
She fails to see the storm clouds on her regal husband's dome.
I got him guessed, that Weazel guy harpoons a girl that's young and spry,
And tries to seal her up for life in the Old Peoples' Home!
The way I had it figured out she married him to please her folks:
"Our son-in-law, the Kink, you know!" (Some speed! I guess that's poor?)
So, when she sights a Maiden's Dream—some real live wire that's made the team,
Well, she sits up and notices, like any girl. Why, sure!
Old Wenzel can't quite cinch the case, but what he doesn't know, he thinks.
The lump he calls a heart congeals beneath his fancy vest.
He sends for poor old Father John and says as follows:—"I am on!
I merely lack a few details! What hath the queen confessed?"
He holds the court upon the bridge. "Speak up," he says, or otherwise
These spears shall thrust you down to death! Come through! I am the king!
Kick in! What did my spouse confess?" The queen sends frantic S. O. S. . . .
Maybe I sort of dozed, but well—here's how I got this thing . . .
[184]
