Page:The Happy Marriage and Other Poems.pdf/78

 Three hundred and sixty-five twirls To each of your annual whirls, With a vortical moon For a sort of balloon And a meteorite in your curls, ''Ump! Ump!'' And a meteorite in your curls.

You can ride on the Pegasus steed, Or the hobbledy horse on a lead; It won't matter a bit If you pull or you hit There's only one possible speed, ''Toot! Toot!'' There's only one possible speed.

You can ride on the true lover's throne With the lad or the lass that's your own,