Manuscript: Something Submitted In Haste And Returned

There Is Always Room At The Top - After The Investigation.

I Sometimes Think The Pussy-willows Grey Are Angel Kittens Who Have Lost Their Way, And Every Bulrush On The River Bank A Cat-tail From Some Lovely Cat Astray.

The Elf And The Dormouse Under A Toadstool Crept A Wee Elf, Out Of The Rain To Shelter Himself. Under The Toadstool, Sound Asleep, Sat A Big Dormouse All In A Heap. Trembled The Wee Elf, Frightened And Yet Fearing To Fly Away Lest He Get Wet. To The Next Shelter-maybe A Mile! Sudden The Wee Elf Smiled A Wee Smile. Tugged Till The Toadstool Toppled In Two. Holding It Over Him, Gaily He Flew. Soon He Was Safe Home, Dry As Could Be. Soon Woke The Dormouse-"good Gracious Me!" "where Is My Toadstool?" Loud He Lamented. -and That's How Umbrellas First Were Invented.

Song Is The Licensed Medium For Bawling In Public Things Too Silly Or Sacred To Be Uttered In Ordinary Speech.

My Wife Has A Whim Of Iron.