To Ogdred Weary
With this ring, I do thee wed
O, how I shall rejoice when thou art dead
Why I may even caper, gambol, or dance
Now, how do like your tea,
with arsenic, two lumps, and cream?
Why not go out for a stroll, go on go,
I’ll meet you presently beneath the wheels of my auto
With my body, I do thee worship,
If not a stumble, why not a slip
Down, down the winding stairs,
Why I haven’t care if you are interred alive
In a mausoleum, sepulcher, or crypt besides?
While it be not my intention to engender suspicion,
Might I at least explain my odd manner and diction?
I may account for that dagger in my armoire drawer on Tuesday last,
As for the pistol in the marmalade, there has been a rash
of rabid, wily shrews
infesting the surrounding glade and mews
Preposterous, it is a bell pull plain to see,
Now won’t you slip your head in and give it a ring?
That West Indies adder on the pantry floor,
was an escaped zoological specimen from Kuala Lumpur.
And with all my worldly goods I thee endow,
Yet to flee under the cover of night, my beloved bride to be, this I shan’t allow!
My darling, sweetest, dearest treasure true
Must we begin our courtship anew?
What of the chocolates, flowers, walks and choice wines?
Or am I to infer as you run, raving down the lane,
That you most respectfully decline