For
Heaven’s sake! no, mine, I mean,
Come
homeward to this one horse scene;
Come
home at once if you are wise,
Nor
stop to say fourteen “good-byes”.
For
everything in all respect
From
widower to his cornet.
The
pantry shelves are scraped and bare,
And
laundered shirts tell tales of wear.
Canary
bird has struck, wise thing,
And
keeps his head beneath his wing;
Won’t
sing, he says to empty rooms,
And
empty heads and empty cooms.
A
million flies have blowed that they,
Cn
blow me out most any day.
And
dishes piled high in the sink,
They
make a fellow fairly blink.
The
panes through which we used to look
Are
darker than a long sealed book;
And
I could well, in two days more,
Raise
good potatoes on the floor.
I
have to hold my trousers on
For
buttons on them I have none;
And
people say I look like, now,
A
broken, dry, forsaken bough.
O,
yes come home if you are wise,
And
make this place a paradise.
It
is not good for man to be
Alone
with keeping house, you see.
Aug.
26, ‘92
Pub. in
Conn.
Valley
Ad.
coom - (kuːm) or comb,
n.
1. Scot and Northern English waste material, such as dust from coal, grease from axles,
etc. [C16 (meaning: soot): probably a variant of culm]
(also
sawdust or dust from a grindstone)
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