The Old Ginger Snap Pot

There’s many a jar and many a pot

     Full dear to us perhaps;

But the best stone pot of all, I ween,

Was the one snug in the shelves between,

     Where mother kept her ginger snaps.

I’ve many reasons to bless that pot,

     It’s saved me many raps;

For what a cudgel would fail to do

That old stone pot would carry through,

     That old stone pot of ginger snaps.

But, ah! ‘tis now a “memory”,

     Just plastered o’er with traps;

My wife she gives it a loving hug,

Tells her friend it’s a memory jug,

     And I have none of ginger snaps.

Jan. 6, ‘93

   Pub. in

Boston Courier,

  Jan. 28, ‘94