10:13 pm
Enwombed I could not obey
Until tombed, best I not say.
Though vows may be glorious,
My virginity’s notorious,
And life long poverty got in my way.
10:13 pm
Enwombed I could not obey
Until tombed, best I not say.
Though vows may be glorious,
My virginity’s notorious,
And life long poverty got in my way.
Seventeen o’clock
On the first day of June it was some people say, That old Bloom got a check for some work it was pay. He bought for dear Molly garters violet and fair But that fat heap he married hrumphed “why just one pair?!” Well now Bloom he does try, and mistakes will be made, But do we blame poor old Poldy for plans poorly laid? My dear Mrs. Marion, ’tis only too true Your man is in peril, mocked, scorned, and he’s blue! You don’t grasp my point, what I’m meaning is thus: While Molly’s post-coital, Bloom’s making a fuss. He’s stirring up trouble, poking giants in eyes Will it end well for Poldy? There’ll be no surprise. While he longs for his Molly (though soon visits another) Foes want to harm him, beat, hang, maim, and smother! They’ll string him from tree limbs! They’ll maul him I swear! They’ll brain him with biscuit tins flying through air! Now please don’t be fightin’ for this or for thine, Don’t be so dividin’, come on let’s combine! Molly, he gave you lone garters ’tis true, But he brought you face lotion and four handkerchiefs too He’ll bring you more lotion if he remembers besides But poor Poldy’s hit bottom and downward he slides. Treat him gently, with kindness, bring him breakfast and treats. And for Christ’s sake, Madam Molly, at least wash the sheets!12:30 am
To rise is to fall Sallust said, Mother Rome is now beastily dead, Beauty may be decorious Intellect is quite glorious But decline is where we are led If you think I wrote that I’ll see red Or blush ’till I’d rather be dead. That will be fine I’ll read in good time When I’m sober his sheets will be read. Listen to me I appeal, This riddle is funny I feel! What Opera smacks of straight railway tracks? The wheeze? It’s the Rose of Castile! Your joke is unusually clean. Gee, you poked merely my spleen. With umbrella I sigh, play along for a guy. I feel a strong weakness obscene. You look like both past and present, Yet you hold only a segment. Take it from me, Your will is not free. I’ll show you, but it won’t be pleasant.