THERE was a Russian novelist Whose name was Solugubrious, The reading circles took him up, (They'd heard he was salubrious.) The women's club of Cripple Creek Soon held a kind of seminar To learn just what his message was -- You know what bookworms women are. The tea went round. After five cups (You should have seen them bury tea) Dear Mrs. Brown said what she liked Was the great man's @3sincerity.@1 Sweet Mrs. Jones (how free she was From all besetting vanity) Declared that she loved even more His broad and deep @3humanity.@1 Good Mrs. Smith, though she disclaimed All thought of being critical, Protested that she found his work A wee bit @3analytical@1. But Mrs. Black, the President, Of wisdom found the pinnacle: She said, "Dear me, I always think Those Russians are so @3cynical.@1" Well, poor old Solugubrious, It's true that they had heard of him; But neither Brown, Jones, Smith, nor Black Had ever read a word of him! |