We
feel no special call to write
Upon the bathing girl,
She
who parades along the beach
And sets all hearts awhirl.
We’ve
done this each and every year,
Since we began to write;
And
every time she’s been a “dream”,
A “mermaid” or a “sprite”.
No
other reason can we give
Why this course we pursue,
Except
that in our business
It is the thing to do.
Thanksgiving
verses must be writ
Likewise Christmas rhymes;
Each
writer has to hit them all
To keep up with the times.
So
here is to the bathing girl,
The fairest on the beach;
Before
she dips into the surf
She surely is a peach.
But
after she has plunged therein
With tresses wet and tight,
She
isn’t quite so peachy then,
She rather is a sight.
July
30, ‘09
No comments:
Post a Comment