Last night I bore a troubled heart
And prayed the Lord His peace impart...
And dreamt I then of fancy things
Of angel's wings, and Queens, and Kings
Of pirate ships and maidens fair
With emerald eyes and golden hair...
Then, flying there on wings of thought
Was quickened homeward sleeping brought
And woke instead to cold of morn
With worries lurking still forlorn...
Then, while sipping coffee's wake
Did by the garden respite take
And playing there I spied two fox
like stooges wearing reddened locks...
I prayed the Lord to spare my grief
And woke today to comic relief!
Timothy I. Brumley