Ogden Nash

Thought maybe we all could use a break, so I offer this, from the Aug. 5 issue of The New Yorker, rerpinted from the November 22, 1947 edition.


LINES TO BE EMBROIDERED ON A BIB or, THE CHILD IS FATHER OF THE MAN, BUT NOT FOR QUITE A WHILE


So Thomas Edison

Never drank his medicine;

So Blackstone and Hoyle

Refused cod-liver oil;

So Sir Thomas Malory

Never heard of a calory;

So the Earl of Lennox

Murdered Rizzio without the aid of vitamins or calisthenox;

So Socrates and Plato

Ate dessert without finsihing their potato;

So spinach was too spinachy

For Leonardo da Vinaci;

Well, it's all immaterial,

So eat your nice cereal,

And if you want to name your own ration,

First go get a reputation.


-Ogden Nash

the trashery of ogden nashery:) my favorite guy.

I use to have a paperback book of Ogden's verse put in numerous recent moves I seem to have lost it. Have a hardcover book of Nash's called ZOO. I agree with Andy about a break so here are few additional Nash poems to lighten the load and relax the mind.


THE CENTIPEDE


I abjurgate the centipede,

A bug we do not relly need.

At sleepy-time he beats a path

Straight to the bedroom or the bath.

You always wallop where he's not,

Or, if he is, he makes a spot.


MULES


In the world of mules

There are no rules.


THE CLAM


The clam, esteemed by gourmets highly,

Is said to live the life of Riley;

When you are lolling on a piazza

It's what you are as happy as a.


THE COW


The cow is of the bovine ilk;

One end is moo, the other, milk


THE TERMITE


Some primal termite knocked on wood

And tasted it, and found it good,

And that is why your Cousin May

Fell through the parlor floor today.


-Ogden Nash

Andy,


I remember a poem Nash wrote about a one-L (lama) and a two-L (llama)but that he had never seen a three-L (lllama). One reader pointed out that indeed, a three-L does exist. It's when all those trucks show up to a fire, a (groan) three alarmer.


Note: Rhode Islanders pronounce llama as lar-mer.


John

WHAT'S SAUCE POUR L'OIE IS SAUCE POUR L'ETAT C'EST MOI (by Ogden Nash)


I know, mon General, it hurts your pride

To see your cherished language Yankeefied

Your pure, precise Parisian prunes and prisms

Walk cheek by jowl with Americanisms:

Your earnest students of Racine and Zola

Consuming le hot dog and Coca-cola,

Or roaming through le drugstore in a quest

For paperbacks depicting le Far Ouest.

Although I do not wonder that you fuss,

Have you considered what you've done to us?

Just take a gander at your addenda, pardner,

To the heritage of Shakespeare and Ring Lardner.


Let's to the Opal Room, where for a fee

We're seated rinside by a mater d'--

in such crepuscule ambience are we meant

To reach a demarche, or perhaps detente?

A young chantoose is facing her premeer

On her dressing-room chaise lounge lies her brazeer.

Aglow from kneading by a skilled masoose,

Her cheek is pink, her lonjeray chartroose

The gourmet meal is guaranteed to please,

Concluding with that hybrid treat, bleu cheese.


I, too, conclude with this observation cursory:

English makes prettier French than vice versary.

the cleverly concise and incontestably accurate:


Candy is dandy,

But liquor is quicker.

Andy,


Speaking of language, here's a link to Twain's essay "Italian without a Mater."

A funny thing, the ketchup bottle...


First none will come, and then a lot'll.

One of my favorites is The Jumping Frog (in English, then in French, then clawed back into a civilized language one more by, patient, unremunerated toil).


The greatest American of the 19th century.

it never ceases to amaze me how much time i can waste when these ogden nash threads appear. nothing beats ogeden nash on a clear hot August day. now it's off to the book shelf, then take the kids to the pool, but only after i explain to the little bittens that cross children walk and cheerful children ride...