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Poem by Clarence James Dennis


Waiting


Oh, how I love the fine old chap
Who sits upon my left at meals,
And drops his cabbage, in my lap
From swooping fork, while he reveals
How he, at Hay, in '83,
Gave Hamlet's grand so-lil-o-quee.

He slops his supper beer o' nights,
Or fills my dexter ear with stout,
While strenuously he recites,
And hurls his lanky limbs about,
To prove that every modern cuss
Has missed the true Polonius.

His oysters down my back he'll throw,
Or freely spray me with his soup,
When suddenly inspired to show
How savage Ingomar should whoop,
Or illustrate the proper scream
With which to finish 'Denver's Dream.'

He throws his turnips everywhere;
With breakfast-tea he scalds my legs;
I've spuds and carrots in my hair;
And oft he's smitten me with eggs.
If e'er he shows, with humor grim
I'll throw these things all back at him. 



Clarence James Dennis


Clarence James Dennis's other poems:
  1. Our Cow
  2. A Love Song
  3. Lullaby
  4. The Ant Explorer


Poems of the other poets with the same name:

  • Sarah Jewett Waiting ("I can't believe my wedding day was fifty years ago!")
  • Ella Wilcox Waiting ("The days flow on, and on") 1869
  • Robert Frost Waiting ("Afield at dusk")

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