I Hate People But I

Heap Not On This Mound Roses That She Loved So Well; Why Bewilder Her With Roses That She Cannot See Or Smell.

Summer Set Lip To Earth's Bosom Bare, And Left The Flushed Print In A Poppy There. I Will Touch A Hundred Flowers And Not Pick One.

The Englishman Foxtrots As He Fox-hunts, With All His Being, Through Thickets, Through Ditches, Over Hedges, Through Chiffons, Through Waiters, Over Saxophones, To The Victorious Finish; And Who Goes Home Depends On How Many The Ambulance Will Accommodate.

I Drank At Every Vine, The Last Was Like The First. I Came Upon No Wine So Wonderful As Thirst.

One Things There's No Getting By, I've Been A Wicked Girl, Says I... But, If I Can't Be Sorry I Might As Well Be Glad !