The Furlough is Ova'

The furlough is over and I am glad to be back. I thought a good way to celebrate would be to share some more REALLY BAD POETRY. I give you, Fred Emerson Brooks. To read an entire poem by this master would be too much altogether so I will only give you a few dumplings of wonder from his glorious verse.

From Foreigners on Santa Claus

The bonnie Scotchman niver doot
Wi' Scots Wauhi!
That Santa Claus goes a' aboot...

We have ze Santa Claus een France
We see him when we get ze chance.


And now, from The Stuttering Lover (this is my buddy Caleb's fav.)

I lu-love you very well,
Much mu-more than I can tell,
With a lu-lu-lu-lu-love I cannot utter;
I kn-know just what to say,
But my tongue gets in the way,
And af-fe-fe-fe-fe-fection's bound to stutter!

When a wooer wu-wu-woos,
And a cooer cu-cu-coos,
Till his face is re-re-red like a tomato,
Take his heart in bi-bi-bits,
Every portion fi-fi-fits,
Though his love su-su-seem, somewhat stuccato

I will wu-worship you, of course,
And nu-never get divorce,
Though you stu-stu-stu-stu-storm in angery weather,
For whu-when you're in a pique
So mu-mad you cannot speak,
We'll be du-du-du-du-dumb then both together.


I love the stuccato love. What is "pique?"