City V.S. Country

You may talk about your water in the bucket oaken old,

Of the cool and sparkling nectar from beneath the hillside bold;

Of the dear old country water full of microbes and of germs,

But the water for my palate is the soda down at Herm’s.

You may speak of country sailing on the broad and restless lake,

Of your cutter skimming swiftly, of the disappearing wake;

You may land the yachting parties, with their natty sailor suits,

But I’ll stay here in the city where I’ll nightly shoot the shutes!

Aug. 8, ‘97

Little Joker for

June, ‘98