BY J. S. BIGELOW
In apples and in tangerines,
I always find a flaw;
Little bits of seeds and skins
Scratch my unhappy craw.
Every silver lining
Is only tinsel plate;
Each euphoric wining
Precedes a stomach ache.
Leeches live in stilly pools,
Spiders in the glen;
If women are mostly silly fools
They make worse fools of men.