OK, I give up. I was hoping someone other than the author would recognize my repeated couplet, and smuggly supply the pertinent 411, but I guess it was somewhat obscure. I thought it would be almost universally known. It is from a jump-rope rhyme that was all the rage during my formative years on the wrong side of the tracks (Vallejo, CA):
My mother, your father live across the street,
Fourteen, thirteen Alligator Street.
Every night they have a fight,
And this is what they say,
"Boys are rotten,
Made of dirty cotten,
Girls are dandy,
Made of sugar candy..."
I wish I could supply the moving conclusion, but it is in neither my memory, nor my Anna Banana Book of Jump Rope Rhymes.
As to the praise vs. criticism discussion that appears and reappears on these boards, sure, I enjoy praise, just as I enjoy Ice-cream Sundaes. But I don't want a diet of either. Criticism is MUCH more useful, in sparking revisions that can improve poems immeasurably. Isn't that what it's all about?
Asking for it,
CGM
[This message has been edited by C.G. Macdonald (edited April 28, 2001).]
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