Someday when I’m rich I’ll build me a boat drag it down to the shore and set it afloat. I’ll fill up the hold with orangey larding and christen my ship the Warren G. Harding.
Rhyme, echo the name of Ezra Pound Whom the war capitalists impounded. For miserable years he pounded The wall of modern verse, expounded The madness of dollar, franc and pound. Forget the theories he propounded, But praise the language he compounded. The centuries are in that pound.
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I have to find and post the clip of Franklin Bruno's song that includes rhymes for orange, purple and silver.
Someday when I’m rich
I’ll build me a boat
drag it down to the shore
and set it afloat.
I’ll fill up the hold
with orangey larding
and christen my ship
the Warren G. Harding.
Rhyme, echo the name of Ezra Pound
Whom the war capitalists impounded.
For miserable years he pounded
The wall of modern verse, expounded
The madness of dollar, franc and pound.
Forget the theories he propounded,
But praise the language he compounded.
The centuries are in that pound.
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