Col. D. Streamer

Perverted Proverbs: a Manual of Immorals for the Many Col. D. Streamer

Do you recall those bygone days, When you received with kindly praise My bantling book of Rhyme? Praise undeserved, alas! and yet How sweet! For, tho' we had not met, (Ah! what a waste of time!) I could the more enjoy such mercies Since I delighted in your verses. And when a Poet stoops to smile On some one of the rank and file, (Inglorious?if not mute,) Some groundling bard who craves to climb, Like me, the dizzy rungs of Rhyme, To reach the Golden Fruit; For one in such a situation The faintest praise is no damnation. Parnassus heights must surely pall; For simpler diet do you call, Of nectar growing tired? These verses to your feet I bring, Drawn from an unassuming spring, Well-meant?if not inspired; O charming Poet's charming daughter, Descend and taste my toast and water!