THAT OLD FOOT-IN-MOUTH…

THAT OLD FOOT-IN-MOUTH…!

Not wanting to insult my friends,

To their anger I must make amends…

Not making clear

They were without peer,

Without them I’d be at loose ends!

Pardon me if I crawl to my cave,

Trying some discretion to save…

I am just that:

A big spoiled brat–

The worst kind of writing knave.

The ones of whom I wrote will never know

And they too, would angrily blow…

The ungrateful gall

I’d complain at all,

Some observations better off not shown!

Speaking of Man’s common nature,

I seem to elevate my stature…

This sorry young wag

Opened the wrong bag,

Giving proper appreciation its hiatus.

(To my greatest loss!!)

–Jonathan Caswell

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