"No hunger & no witties
neither deary"
Said the crone
To Edwin Drood
Okay.
There'll be an answer.
Forthcoming
When the morning wind
Ceases shaking
The man's collar
When there's no starch in't
And Acme Beer
Runs flowing
Into dry gray hats.
When
Dearie
The pennies in the
palm multiply
as you watch