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Cheerful, John B. Colwell, in English Clear filters

CheerfulJohn B. Colwell

To Willie, the Weeper, the One-Man Band

Say, Willie, The Weeper, The One-Man Band, When you play a tune do you sit or stand? You must sit, I suppose, if you play with your toes, As well as with fingers, with mouth, and with nose; But, how can you do that and lead a parade? How can a non-marching band make the grade? Oh, how can you tickle the saxophone, And at the same time make the bassoon moan? Play the piccolo shrill, with flourish and trill, Make the cymbals clash, or pause and be still — The trumpet, the tuba, the snare and bass drum? Oh, Willie, The Weeper, you must "go some"! Perhaps, if I saw with my wondering eyes The way you conduct your complete enterprise, And heard, with my ears, the plaudits and cheers,
CheerfulJohn B. Colwell

Cheerfulness

Poised, far above the city's street, On swaying wire, the robin sits Full throated. His happy notes repeat His urgent joy. His message sweet The hastening throngs he sends to greet ; While— Swaying, Swaying, Swaying ! Nor tree, nor bush, — no leaf of green — Can songster here behold; Naught of the field or native scene, Yet pours his heart in notes serene With dainty little interludes between; While— Swinging,
CheerfulJohn B. Colwell

Resurrection

Last fall when chill winds swept the fields, And swirled the dead leaves in the wood, It filled our flue with eerie squeals — I knew spring fishin' time was good, So I just took my fishin' poles And stowed 'em on the proper nails, To wait 'til spring should stir our souls And make us yearn for well loved trails. Today, those fish poles spoke to me, From where they hung on garage wall ; And strong desire awoke in me — Desire that had been dead since fall. The flicker yammers from his tree, A soft breeze keeps the willows swishin'— My office would a prison be: I'm digging worms to go a fishin' !
CheerfulJohn B. Colwell

The Grocer's Cat

Behold the village grocer's cat! That's who I am; (Named Sam) Not sleek — not fat — But foe, and woe, to sneaking rat. I wander out and in 'Twixt box and bin With feline grin, And many a tender mouse I eat Because of silent feet, Well armed and fleet. Sometimes I park myselfOn crowded shelf; Or in the window built for show — For that's a place I love to go To doze, and purr in the sun's warm glow And watch the circling flies below.
CheerfulJohn B. Colwell

To a Hospital Thermometer

Little, shining, piece of glass, Here you come plumb full of "sass"! Chuck'ling, chort'ling, grinning, smug, Where'd you get your license, lug? Safe beneath the nurse's thumb Who can speak his thoughts — by gum! When she slides you 'neath your tongue? "Settle down old boy, you're stung!" Don't you ever get enough Of that sleuth, detective stuff? What you huntin' in my mouth? Think I'm balmy? Goin' South? I may fail to grade "elect" But I keep my self-respect, While you steep in alcohol Winter, summer, springtime, fall!
CheerfulJohn B. Colwell

Our Traffic Cop

We have a street dog in our town That chases autos up and down, And tries, by every dog known ruse, To make them mind their Ps and Qs. Most often, by the West Side Park, I hear his animated bark — This self appointed, canine cop, Who works the dog-town "Go" and "Stop". All careless drivers passing by Get one mean look, from his sharp eye, Bare teeth, a growl, or a bitten tire — For this wise dog is full of ire!! Ah me, for just one happy day, I'd love to be this dog, this stray! I'd tell some drivers what I think, As they steal my rights, with a laugh and wink.

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