Rhymes like these are to appear at irregular intervals according to the mood of the author and his ability to write down to the requirements of a cruel and bard taskmaster. (Sic—Ed.) He will need outside help, and an appeal is made for contributions, which, however, he will use as his own, without credit. The author positively disclaims any and all responsibility for any indiscreet utterances he may make.
Be patient with me and my sad sea song, And I promise not to detail you long, My song of the southern sea. The scene ts near tropic isles afar, You can hear the strum of a steel guitar, And the meter is smooth and Swinging, and jinglely.
That left two in the boat—Mabel: MacGregor is a flinty Scot, and me—To continue our cruise on the southern sea, And we sailed to our hearts'
delight.
The full moon rose from her ocean And sailed the blue vault far over-ead, 4 Knowingly winking her other eye, As she snared the stars in the inky My! Twas a glorious night!
And now I've ended my sad sea song, I told you it wouldn't take too long, And you know a thing or two. Why we've neither a camel nor yet!
a giraffe (Here I slip in a line for rhyme—j don't laugh.)
Why a lone bear is Shanghai's With a deer, and a monk, and a bird or two.
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.