A Patter Song - Poem by Ambrose Bierce
There was a cranky Governor
His name it wasn't Waterman.
For office he was hotter than
The love of any lover, nor
Was Boruck's threat of aiding him
Effective in dissuading him
This pig-headed, big-headed, singularly self-conceited Governor Nonwaterman.
To citrus fairs, _et caetera_,
He went about philandering,
To pride of parish pandering.
He knew not any better-ah,
His early education had
Not taught the abnegation fad
The wool-witted, bull-witted, fabulously feeble-minded king of gabble-gandering!
He conjured up, _ad libitum_,
With postures energetical,
One day (this is prophetical)
His graces, to exhibit 'em.
He straddled in each attitude,
Four parallels of latitude
The slab-footed, crab-footed, galloping gregarian, of presence unaesthetical!
An ancient cow, perceiving that
His powers of agility
Transcended her ability
(A circumstance for grieving at)
Upon her horns engrafted him
And to the welkin wafted him
The high-rolling, sky-rolling, hurtling hallelujah-lad of peerless volatility!
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