[Janice D. Soderling]

John, it's delightful.

I confess that I hear the echos (as you do, and at my door) a la Wendy Cope's A Policeman's Lot , by which I mean only to pay you the compliment that this is equally as jaunty as hers and wants, aye demands, to be sung with a bass or tenor chiming in to repeat the endwords.

(I'm sure there is a musical term for that of which I am sadly, unforgiveably ignorant, something more precise than "refrain"; some educated and impetuous Spherian will surely inform me.)