Yes, I'm Trying to Impress You But I Don't Count the Dead
Maryland sky from weekend past, most beautiful Spring since the last until the next, did not toggle from Winter to Summer with no Spring like many Mays here, gets that bleggalgaze off the top of blog, gets you these links before they're stale
This not only short changes what the team I'm on does, it trivializes what we do, deliberately reiterates and reinforces what busboys we are and the requirement we know it
I prefer (and am used to) being invisible at work, but my colleagues are completely hurt by our invisibility though we've been the only people in the fucking building since March 2020, someday I'll post what I type in notebook about the fucks who rule us and fine metaphors abounding
Tina Mozelle Braziel's poem reminds me of the following rhyme, sometimes recited by my late father of blessed memory, even in the last years of his long life. He learned it in the early part of the twentieth century, as a Canadian schoolboy. It appears in the 1909 edition of The Ontario Readers Second Book. I regret that I have been unable to find any more information about the poem or the author.
The Daring Froggie -- by James Clarence Hawer --
Once upon a time On the border of a brook, A wicked little froggie, Who had never read a book --
Who had never read a story, Or a funny little rhyme, Had a sad and tragic ending, Once upon a time.
This little froggie, sad to say, Was very fond of flies, And thought on this unlucky day That he had found a prize.
"Up, up I go," said Froggie, "I can climb as well as hop; I only hope he'll stay right there Until I reach the top."
"I wish this wouldn't bend so much." Said Froggie, going higher; "I wish that flies would shut their eyes And come a little nigher.
But he is such a good one And he looks so very fine, I think I must have him, For it's time for me to dine."
So up he went regardless Of the danger he was in; He saw a duck below him, But he didn't care a pin;
Till suddenly behind his back The reed began to crack. And all he heard was just one word -- And that one word was "Quack!"
Tina Mozelle Braziel's poem reminds me of the following rhyme, sometimes recited by my late father of blessed memory, even in the last years of his long life. He learned it in the early part of the twentieth century, as a Canadian schoolboy. It appears in the 1909 edition of The Ontario Readers Second Book. I regret that I have been unable to find any more information about the poem or the author.
ReplyDeleteThe Daring Froggie
-- by James Clarence Hawer --
Once upon a time
On the border of a brook,
A wicked little froggie,
Who had never read a book --
Who had never read a story,
Or a funny little rhyme,
Had a sad and tragic ending,
Once upon a time.
This little froggie, sad to say,
Was very fond of flies,
And thought on this unlucky day
That he had found a prize.
"Up, up I go," said Froggie,
"I can climb as well as hop;
I only hope he'll stay right there
Until I reach the top."
"I wish this wouldn't bend so much."
Said Froggie, going higher;
"I wish that flies would shut their eyes
And come a little nigher.
But he is such a good one
And he looks so very fine,
I think I must have him,
For it's time for me to dine."
So up he went regardless
Of the danger he was in;
He saw a duck below him,
But he didn't care a pin;
Till suddenly behind his back
The reed began to crack.
And all he heard was just one word --
And that one word was "Quack!"