Aspiration’s School

W’en I begun I wus a poet,

An’ I meant the worl’ should know it.

So, hard I rhymed bot night an’ day,

An’ sent an’ sent an’ sent away.

Then did the tide begin to slacken,

An’ all my brilliant hopes to blacken;

An’ inch by inch I los’ my fame,

For back an’ back an’ back they came.

“Well, then,” said I, “I’m jest a writer;

A fust class literary fighter.”

So, then I mailed another batch,

But back it came – “warn’t up to scratch.”

Now then, I’ve come to this conclusion,

An’ min’ you, frien’s ‘tis no delusion:

I’m jest a harmless, rhymin’ fool

Thet’s kicked frum aspiration’s school.

June 30, ‘91

Pub. in Cam.

  Press