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Little Ballads Of Timely Warning; III:

Little Ballads Of Timely Warning; III: On Laziness And Its Resultant Ills
There was a man in New York City
(His name was George Adolphus Knight)
So soft of heart he wept with pity
To see our language and its plight.

He mourned to see it sorely goaded
With silent letters left and right;
These from his own name he unloaded
And wrote it Georg Adolfus Nit.

Six other men in that same city
Who longed to see a Spelling Heaven
Formed of themselves a strong committee
And asked Georg Nit to make it seven.

He joined the other six with pleasure,
Proud such important men to know,
Agreeing that their first great measure
Should be to shorten the word though.

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poem by Ellis Parker Butler
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Nit and Picked Too Long

My love for you is gone.
You nit and picked too long.
Your criticisms wrong.
I did not feel belonged.

My love for you is gone!
You nit and picked too long.
Your criticisms wrong.
I did not feel belonged.

Absent was a benefit.
Every time you threw a fit.
And your tongue was acid lit.
Driving me to split,
And seek calm.

You nit and picked too long.
Your criticisms wrong.
I did not feel belonged.
Driving me to split,

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Caked In Dust

Nit picking is your 'special' gift.
And you snicker when you wish to needle.
Knowing it annoys a bit.

I'm bottled up.
You don't seem to know when it's enough.
I wish I could adhesive tape,
The flow of the rushing stuff...
I would love to hush up.

I'm bottled up.
And feeling like I'm sinking in a tub.
Corrupted by the notion this is love.
But the love I felt is caked in dust...
And pains me in the gut.

I'm bottled up.
And feeling pricked, nit picked and needled.
Bottled up.
Like a pin stuck through a beetle.

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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My Bay'nit

When first I left Blighty they gave me a bay'nit
And told me it 'ad to be smothered wiv gore;
But blimey! I 'aven't been able to stain it,
So far as I've gone wiv the vintage of war.
For ain't it a fraud! when a Boche and yours truly
Gits into a mix in the grit and the grime,
'E jerks up 'is 'ands wiv a yell and 'e's duly
Part of me outfit every time.

Left, right, Hans and Fritz!
Goose step, keep up yer mits!
Oh my, Ain't it a shyme!
Part of me outfit every time.

At toasting a biscuit me bay'nit's a dandy;
I've used it to open a bully beef can;
For pokin' the fire it comes in werry 'andy;
For any old thing but for stickin' a man.
'Ow often I've said: "'Ere, I'm goin' to press you
Into a 'Un till you're seasoned for prime,"

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poem by Robert William Service
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Nit Picker Perjury

A bow snatched from her hair
Ensures smiles they won’t share
The way he pronounces
Words she denounces
Only paves the way
For more harsh words they say

The cut of his clothes
The bump in her nose
The choices they make
Mark the paths they will take

The way he sips coffee
Is not her cup of tea
‘My way or the highway’
Leaves little incentive to stay

Each little nit picking bit
Either one makes mention of
Stands to forfeit

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poem by Mary Havran
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No Adam For Your Eve

You can play your tricks,
In any kind of mix.
But let me make this clear...
There is no satisfaction!

You can nit and pick,
Do all of this in fits.
So let me tell you quick...
You get no reaction from me...
I can see you are evil!

You can moan and whine,
Like you do half the time.
Throw a tantrum on a dime...
But I am no Adam for your Eve.
You can fall to pieces!

You can play your tricks,
In any kind of mix.
But let me make this clear...

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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City of Moon

City of Moon

If your heart is not ruined by wild beast
Touching the flower the sun spread smell sweet
Because of southern wind’s touch as storm rises in sea
Unknown lady with your touch I want to reach in moon city.

Touching the flower the sun spread smell sweet
Love that goes to brothel is not clean and nit
Unknown lady with your touch I want to reach in moon city
Puzzled vagabond wishes to be illuminated you are not lucky.

Love that goes to brothel is not clean and nit
Dwelling together with moon- is parallel unknown lady sweet
Puzzled vagabond wishes to be illuminated you are not lucky
In favorite dew bathed grass looks at sun and sea.

Dwelling together with moon- is parallel unknown lady sweet
Alas! The slaves become ruined when the sun and sea meet
In favorite dew bathed grass looks at sun and sea

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poem by Bongokobida Zakaria
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Wake Up Call

After being galvanized
Awake both sides my id
Rushing quaking static
In me
Flipping all but my proverbial
Lid
I scattered myself to and fro
Into a patchwork kind of
Quilt
Wired up from a long calm
Now shaken and stirred
A bit
I began my seek and find
Journey
Of a hidden thug who goes
By: 'Nit Wit'
He's part of a Deranged
Cowboy Gang
Who love their transportation
White

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poem by Theodora Onken
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You Drive Me Crazy

You drive me crazy.
And I must,
Like...
The craze.

You drive me crazy.
You drive me crazy.
Say...
You drive me crazy.
And I must,
Like...
The craze.

You drive me crazy.
You drive me crazy.

All day long...
I knock my head against the wall.

Holding on...

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Bar-Room Patriot

Why, 'ow's she goin', Bill, ole sport?
I thort I knoo your dile!
My oath! You look the proper sort!
That khaki soots your style.
I never 'eard you'd joined, yeh know
It makes me feel I want to go.

Must be a year or more, I s'pose,
Since last time we two met!
An' then, to see you in them clothes
Can't realise it yet!
I'm proud to think a friend o' mine
Is off to biff the German swine!

You look slap-up in that rig-out.
We ort to celebrate
I fell it's up to me to shout!
But - can't be done, ole mate!
For I 'ave took a solemn vow
I never shout for soldiers now.

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poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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