One bliss for which

There is no match

Is when you itch

To up and scratch

Yet doctors and dowagers deprecate scratching,

And medical circles consistently hold

That scratchings as wicked as feeding a cold.

Hell's flame burns unquenched 'neath how many a stocking

On account of to scratch in a salon is shocking!

'Neath tile or thatch

That man is rich

Who has a scratch for every itch.

Ho, squirmers and writhers , how long will you suffer

The medical tyrant, the social rebuffer!

On the edge of the door let our shoulder blades rub,

Let the drawing room now be as free as the tub!

I'm greatly attached

To Barbara Frietchie.

I'll bet she scratched

When she was itchy.

And can you stand one more?

THE OSTRICH

The ostrich roams the great Sahara.

It's mouth is wide, it's neck is narra.

It has such long and lofty legs,

I'm glad it sits to lay it's eggs.