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Sunday, January 31, 2021

poem - catfish


by horace p sternwall



i dreamed i was tom sawyer
fishing in a muddy stream
and tom caught a catfish
but it was not what it seemed

the catfish was abe lincoln
and he tossed tom a dime
and said, hold on to it, my boy
it must last you for all time

be wary, said walt whitman
for all this will be forgot
what is seen will be wiped clean
but what is whispered will not

then up stepped henry ford
wearing a necktie made of worms
for he was not george washington
and certainly not george burns

do not cut down the cherry tree
lest all this glory end
tom paine is in the parlor
making huey long his friend

mr vanderbilt has four aces
and grant a pair of kings
jesse james looks over his shoulder
as boss tweed pulls the strings

a new book will be written
when the old world returns
but the children will not read it
for no one ever learns

tom reeled in the catfish
and took the hook from out its mouth
custer set out for the territory
ambrose bierce went south



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