“A transfer, please”, he asked so nattily
that I, (bemused and nodding)
could scarcely bring reply.
“By gum, your customers are cool.” (By
that he meant his own svelte self, and
none of his rat-tailed neighbors, harboring their
hatreds on every handy stool.)
“Now look at him, now look at her,” he
pointed at his nestling neighbors, “think
what a difference a hob-nailed boot,
a flying foot,
would bring to those ruddy faces (faces? farces!)
But No! they’d rather flap,
than wear the cap I recommend.
Well, leave them to their sorry fate,
no time to wait,
I’ll duplicate, not implicate.”
and fingering his green lapel,
a gesture that we knew too well,
he flapped his tail and left us
in a cloud of perfumed bells.
contributed by Beatitude Tutman