LINES COMPOSED IN ALGEBRAIC SPEEDOMETER FOR A PARTY IN BOZEMAN, MONTANA
Also in Technicolor and the key of E-flat
When the bloom is on the bloomers And the boom is in the rumors I will gather all my tumors And mail them home to you. There’s a hill that rises (up, of course) In the dreams of Good King Stanislaus And only throne that Stan has known Is (censored)(redacted)(censored) horse. How now, cerise and ochre cow, Your milking days are over now. You are, though hale, beyond the pail And the hunter home from the House. Ride ’em Clyde, and bide at last Astride the slide before the mast. With thee I’d be, not in N.D. Enjoy’ng the academic blast. Translation available at extra charge
