Oh dear, oh dear, poor Quincy dear,
there's little to his life, I fear -
he has no brand new vintage car,
and lack of ego seems to bar
his giving us the finger - so -
this wagon's all he's got to show:
a massive, ancient Chevrolet
that begs an Okie rondelet.
But as I write of Quincy's plight
(and hope I've read his motives right),
I'll reassure him I would simper
soothing ditties if he'd whimper
of an injured hand or limb -
I have no bone to pick with him -
it doesn't rankle me that he
is soon en route to Trinity.
[This message has been edited by Michael Cantor (edited July 25, 2006).]
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