THE wasps were one morning obtrusively gay: Said my true love, "I know what'll speed them away: From a nail, or a chairback, a bottle hang down, And they're 'tree'd' -- the brave varmints that buzz round your crown!" He hath found an old bottle, I cannot say where; He hath bound it with skill to the back of a chair; Full of mild ale so yellow and sugar so brown; And he "tree'd" them by dozens, I bet you a crown. They may talk of their hares, of their rabbits, and all, Such round-headed rascals, in Westminster Hall. But tell legislators, the things to put down Are those queer little imps that encircle one's crown. So here's to their health, when they next travel here: The sugar's unrivalled, resistless the beer: And in peace may they leave us, themselves while they drown In the healthy malt liquor that's sold at the "Crown." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MY HUT; AFTER TRAN QUANG KHAI by HAYDEN CARRUTH SONG OF TWO CROWS by HAYDEN CARRUTH TO TWO UNKNOWN LADIES by AMY LOWELL OCTAVES: 20 by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON CLASS SONG (WHICH WILL BE SUNG ON THE 22ND OF FEBRUARY) by GEORGE SANTAYANA |