Beyond the Black Hole

Goodbye for Now

or,
Pardon My Gauntlet

Ogden Nash

Bring down the moon for genteel Janet;
She's too refined for this gross planet.
She wears garments and you wear clothes,
You buy stockings, she purchases hose.
She say That is correct, and you say Yes,
And she disrobes and you undress.
Confronted by a mouse or moose,
You turn green, she turns chartroose.
Her speech is new-minted, freshly quarried;
She has a fore-head, you have a forehead.
Nor snake nor slowworm draweth nigh her;
You go to bed, she doth retire.
To Janet, births are blessed events,
And odors that you smell she scents.
Replete she feels, when her food is yummy,
Not in the stomach but the tummy.
If urged some novel step to show,
You say Like this, she says Like so.
Her dear ones don't die, but pass away;
Beneath her formal is lonjeray.
Of refinement she's a fount, or fountess,
And that is why she's now a countess.
She was asking for the little girls' room
And a flunky though she said the earl's room.

A quick pipsqueak from Mr Mouse: The preceding poem was, in actuality, posted by Mr. Pixy Misa under my name when he set up this little secure and comfortable cubby hole for me to use when I need to hide from those mean monsters who desire to devour me. If I have been wanting to post a poem, I might have picked one of the poems from either this post or this post.