Oscar Couch 1885-1914

Oscar D. Couch 1885-1914 So your poet, Mr Hunter, here, Has given me some writing space, Strictly twenty five lines of epitaph, For inclusion into this ponderous tome of his. And despite being a dead man, Going on over a hundred year now, I have accepted his curious challenge herewith, And offer up my final ode to human existence, One in which the costumes of my very survival, Were often altered and quickly changed, Well before the tainted soup was ever served! My obscure advice? Be careful of bashful friends. Shhh! Keep your voice low around the quiet ones. Shhh! Never confide to the shy ones your secret plans. Roscoe was my good friend, I must confess. He was as shy a boy I had ever known. Good at football, and shooting arrows with a bow. And he was an expert with trees and shrubbery. But if you want me to comment about his sex life, Mister Hunter! Mister Poet Man! Well, you can just forget it! Roscoe was misunderstood! That I know! And his sudden death was most tragic to me. But leave me out of it, Mister Stark Hunter! Mister Poet Man with the license!