Sunday, July 18, 2004

ODE TO MY PROSTHESIS

Nic e-mails with this link to a rather macabre poem about amputation from an 1866 edition of Harper's New Monthly Magazine. It contains the memorable stanza:

"How could the Queen sleep sound at night,
Safe from the scum and dregs,
If English boys refused to fight
For fear of wooden legs?"


Rhyming "dregs" with "wooden legs" -- genius.

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