A large, prestigious
college had a large, prestigious hall,
And through its doors
came visitors. It welcomed one and all,
A bright, brass plaque
was fixed o’er where the people walked each day,
Upon it clearly written
the hall’s name of Hemingway.
There one day came a man,
(a tourist and a writer, too)
Who took a tourist’s glee
in all the rooms that he went through.
Who clapped with pleasure
when he saw that name upon that plaque,
“Why, Hemingway’s my
favourite!” said the man. (Let’s call him Jack.)
“As a fellow writer, I
have read most everything he wrote,
“And don’t tell anyone,
but he’s my favourite man to quote!
“It says something for
your school that you would name a hall just so,
“I simply must explore
before it’s time for me to go!”
His guide said, “Jack, I
am afraid that you’re mistak-en be,
“This hall was not named
for your Ernest, I must make you see,
“Though, yes by the name ‘Hemingway’
this hall is quite well known,
“You have to know it’s ‘Joshua’
who claims the name his own.”
“Joshua!” our Jack
exclaimed. “Was he a writer, too?
“And was he a relation of
the man that we all knew?”
“Though Hemingway’s his
name, a tie to Ernest? Not a spec,
“And yes, he was a writer,
for, to us, he wrote a check!”
Cause Monday’s do get knocked
a lot,
With Poetry, we all
besought
To try to make the week
begin
With pleasant thoughts,
Perhaps a grin?
So all of us, together,
we
Have crafted poems for
you to see,
And now you’ve read what
we have wrought,
Did we help?
Or did we not?
Next week, we’re all here
anyhow,
Let’s talk of Things that
Scare Us now.
And now for some funnies!
