|I wrote a little poem on the melancholy days
Which told of chill and foggy winds in many a dismal
But still the golden summer lingered in the lap of fall
And the editor refused it for it wouldn't fit at all.
Said he: "Compose some stanzas about this lovely
And bring 'em to the office and we'll use 'em every
So I sought the woodland wild, dressed in my
To draw some inspiration from the sunshine and the
But ere I wrote a dozen lines about the bosky glen
A blizzard came and froze the ink within my
The wind blew through my garments, so gauzy and
My ears got blue and wilted like a frosted pumpkin
I had to hire a plumber to come down to my place
And set the heater up for me so I could thaw my face.
My rythmical effusion I proudly took to town
But when the printer read it he calmly threw it down.
Quoth he: "That stuff you've written is sadly out of
The trouble is you brought it in about a day too late."
Verdigris Valley Verse
(Coffeyville, Kansas: The Journal Press. 1917)