A Drinking Song

Oh, give to me the freshest drink,—
   A draught as smooth as silk
And whiter than the kitchen sink,—
   A pail full of milk!

Pour it with love, and watch it flow,
   (Nor spill a drop, for dread!)
Pour it precisely, enjoy the show,
   And give it a foamy head!

I drink it ere the morning sun
   Hath waked the early bird:
I wake and make a midnight run
   To taste the lazy herd.

I rise at dawn and drink again,
   And drink throughout the day;
Then drink a nightcap (or nine or ten)
   And dream of curds and whey.

I've heard it said I drink too much,
   And this is understood;
But man has never died from such,
   And, oh! it's just so good!


Dinner Date

A banshee once went on a date,—
A dinner.  It wasn't so great:
   She started to cry 
   Right across from the guy,
Who then choked and fell dead on his plate.


Yet Another Dark Lady

Some hold it true that Erin’s creamy skin
Is clearly fairest in both grain and hue;
And I have seen such porcelain skin as hin-
ted quite convincingly that this was true.
Some hold it true the Aztec’s nut-brown hide
(Made with Quetzal’s chocolate from long ago)
Is fairest, and understandably deride
The purblind eyes of those who do not know.
And others, still, prefer a different cast,—
A different color, texture, shade, and tone.
And most enjoy a rude debate on taste.
I argue not, but leave them all alone:
I’d rather go and dream a blissful dream
Of chocolate skin kissed wet with Irish cream.