HOBNOBBING WITH THE FIRMAMENT
And if you'd strike a church or what—
Or just some pleasant garden spot;
Or just some pleasant garden spot;
Perhaps you hope a kindly fate
Would cause you to evaporate
Into an atmospheric state—
A sort of cosmic spirit-thing,
And thus take wing, just fluttering,
Up toward those pearly portals there,
So nonchalant and debonair—
Without all that formality
Of tumbling first into a tree!
Would cause you to evaporate
Into an atmospheric state—
A sort of cosmic spirit-thing,
And thus take wing, just fluttering,
Up toward those pearly portals there,
So nonchalant and debonair—
Without all that formality
Of tumbling first into a tree!
But see! She's found an even keel
At last. What joy to feel
That level glide—to know you're still
On board—until,
Oh Lord! Another stunt!
You grab, you grunt,
But breathe you can't,
Her nose has struck a fiendish slant!
That chuggy-chug—has it gone dead?
Or has the Pilot lost his head?
He does not swerve, his aim's exact,
He's Hell-bent for that timber-tract!
Oh were there ever, ever trees
With such a prickly look as these?
At last. What joy to feel
That level glide—to know you're still
On board—until,
Oh Lord! Another stunt!
You grab, you grunt,
But breathe you can't,
Her nose has struck a fiendish slant!
That chuggy-chug—has it gone dead?
Or has the Pilot lost his head?
He does not swerve, his aim's exact,
He's Hell-bent for that timber-tract!
Oh were there ever, ever trees
With such a prickly look as these?
[55]
