Greetings From Gungywamp

Oh, Puddingstoners, one and all,

From biggest ones down to the small;

The farmer Morris and the rest

To Fowler, be the littlest,

I thank you for the honor done

Your humble servant, Shymer Cone.

“Honorary Member”! Ne’er before

Has fame e’en halted at my door,

And now there is no rhyming slump

In Boston or in Gungywamp!

One half as proud as proud am I

O’er your strange act of courtesy.

To all your dinners I would go

If I could raise the needed dough;

‘Tis strange, now, I can raise good squash,

And corn, and peas, and beans, by gosh,

But I can’t raise, with hoe or pen,

The fare down there or back again.

April 3, 1912