The Lost Wheeze
Seated last night at my table
I was laboring for a laugh
To work into this here colyum,
In the form of a paragraph.
I was laboring for a laugh
To work into this here colyum,
In the form of a paragraph.
I know not what I was thinking,
Or what was within my brain,
But I struck one chord of humor
That was better than all Mark Twain.
Or what was within my brain,
But I struck one chord of humor
That was better than all Mark Twain.
It flooded my littered table
And my chair of mission oak,
And I said, in my modest manner,
To myself “That is sure some joke!”
And my chair of mission oak,
And I said, in my modest manner,
To myself “That is sure some joke!”
It quieted pain and sorrow
Like love overcoming strife,
It made me forget the premium
Due on my well-known life.
Like love overcoming strife,
It made me forget the premium
Due on my well-known life.
It would have made me famous
All over the East and West,
All people would have pointed
To the Author of that Great Jest.
All over the East and West,
All people would have pointed
To the Author of that Great Jest.
I have sought, but I seek it vainly,
That one Lost Wheeze divine
That one last word in humor,
That was-to-be-deathless line!
That one Lost Wheeze divine
That one last word in humor,
That was-to-be-deathless line!
It may be that Death’s bright Angel
Will slip me that joke, I guess,
But that does me no good this morning
When the page is going to press.
Will slip me that joke, I guess,
But that does me no good this morning
When the page is going to press.