Juliette Smeed : Sing Ho!

Sing ho! For Mabel Gotobed
Whose husband, Abel Gotobed,
Is blissfully, serenely dead.
Sing ho! And roll in clover.

Sing ho! Because that heartless brute,
Who practiced hours on the lute,
Is dead – and death is sweetly mute.
Sing ho to that. Moreover,

His taste for furnishings austere
Is foiled by death’s ascetic jeer.
Sing ho! She has reclaimed her sphere
And dyed the curtains mauver.

Sing ho! Because the seat is down,
She often has her friends around,
And sleeps without that dreadful sound.
(The lengths to which that drove her!)

The flower border’s overblown;
For weeks the grass has not been mown.
Woman and nature left alone!
Sing ho! Their trials are over.

So here’s to Mabel Gotobed
Whose husband, Abel Gotobed,
Is blissfully, serenely dead.
Sing ho! And roll in clover.