The collected works of Ambrose Bierce | ||
[Dear Frank, that scrap-book where you boast]
Dear Frank, that scrap-book where you boast
You keep a record true
Of every kind of peppered roast
That's made of you;
You keep a record true
Of every kind of peppered roast
That's made of you;
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Wherein you paste the printed gibes
That revel round your name,
Thinking the laughter of the scribes
Attests your fame;
That revel round your name,
Thinking the laughter of the scribes
Attests your fame;
Where all the pictures you arrange
That comic pencils trace—
Your funny figure and your strange
Semitic face—
That comic pencils trace—
Your funny figure and your strange
Semitic face—
Pray lend it me. Wit I have not,
Nor art, but there I'll list
The daily drubbings you'd have got
Had God a fist.
Nor art, but there I'll list
The daily drubbings you'd have got
Had God a fist.
The collected works of Ambrose Bierce | ||