A New Suit

     (The mere fact of being smartly dressed is strong mental stimulant, and the man who is shabby, and knows it, is often less capable than the well-dressed mentally inferior – London Outfitter)

Day by day our jingle junk

Has been getting on the punk.

Day by day we’ve felt our verse

Has been getting worse and worse,

Running downhill all the time

Was our daily round of rhyme,

And till now we didn’t know

What on earth should make it so.

Now, our cup of joy to crown,

Comes the word from London town,

Comes the reason why our verse

Has been daily growing worse.

‘Tis because, none can refute,

We have worn a rusty suit.

Worn a suit that’s down and out,

Putting golden muse to rout.

Now we’re going to borrow ten

And get all spruced up again;

We shall buy a suit that’s new,

Then just watch what we will do.

Poetry will flow like wine,

Jokes will bear a new design;

Paragraphs will shine like gold,

We won’t have to work the old

Musty quips of grandad’s time,

Nor rehash forgotten rhyme.

No sir-ee, our work will bloom

Like a newly papered room,

And our jokes will bring a smile

You can hear for half a mile;

Brought about, as London knows,

By a brand new suit of clothes!

Sept. 27, ‘09