In high school we discovered the pithy wit of Ogden Nash. His poetry is brilliantly odd, especially the shorter rhymes.
The cow is of bovine ilk;
One end is moo, the other is milk.
I don't mind eels
Except as meals.
And the way they feels.
Further Reflections on Parsley
Some primal termite knocked on wood
And tasted it, and found it good!
And that is why your Cousin May
Fell through the parlor floor today.
Develops the jaw,
But celery, stewed,
Is more quietly chewed.
Arrant ingenuity, I say.
Repost: A Letter to My Teenage Self
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