Since brevity is the soul of wit
Permit me this line ‘oer long
To sit and ponder, ponder and sit
‘Til the inspiration’s gone
I thought to write a little ditty
To tell you in lines so short
Something keen and very witty
But I just can’t seem to, sport
Was Longfellow long or was he short?
I’m sure that I’m confused.
What I started out to be quite brief
Now makes me want to get boozed
To make a long story short
Seems so terribly easy, too, too blasé
Would rather make a long story longer,
Now what was it I wanted to say?
Oh yes, it comes back to me now
Despite all this ponderous prattle
That there is something I’d like to say
Today being some sort of special day!
The words are here inside me, dear
But darned if I can rhyme them
If’n I could t’would be completely clear
There’s a half-wit sitting behind ‘em!
And so I claim to be verbose
Even tho I’m occasionally witty
But I’ll not stand and drink a toast
To the soulless wit of brevity.
Ramble on, my witless soul
Your message to preamble
To tell someone in words that spoil
What a headache to unscramble.
But to you I’ll drink a dozen toasts
If you have read this far
Because I’d love you just for that
If I hadn’t already before
© 1956 by Janet M. McGuire
(Composed on the occasion of Sue Cheshire’s birthday)
