Write me a poem that hasn't been writ,
Sing me a song that hasn't been sung yet,
String out a strain that hasn't been strung,
And ring me a chime that hasn't been rung yet.
Paint me a picture but leave out the paint,
Pile up a pile of old scenes of my schoolery,
Leave me alone; I would fain meditate
And mourn o'er the moments I lost in tomfoolery.
Tell me a tale that dropped out of a star,
Push me a pun that is pungent, not earthy.
I must have something sharp, strident, and strong
To eke out a laugh or be moderately mirthy.
Give me a love that has never been loved,
Not knowing the glance of the bold and unwary,
A cherup abreast with the saints up above,
And I'll get along and be passably merry.
But come on the fly to me, come on the jump,
Don't hang around on the outskirts and walk to me;
Throw out your cest well, and hold up your head;
Say when, and say it, or else don't you talk to me.