THE "TA-RA-RA" BOOM.

(_BY OUR OWN MELANCHOLY MUSER._)

I am shrouded in impenetrable _gloom_-de-ay,
For I feel I'm being driven to my _doom_-de-ay,
By an aggravating ditty
Which I don't consider witty;
And they call the horrid thing, "Ta-ra-ra-_boom-de-ay_!"

Every 'bus-conductor, errand-boy, and _groom_-de-ay,
City clerk, and cheeky crossing-sweep with _broom_-de-ay
Makes my nervous system bristle
As he tries to sing or whistle
That atrocious and absurd "Ta-ra-ra-_boom_-de-ay!"

So I sit in the seclusion of my _room_-de-ay,
And deny myself to all--no matter _whom_-de-ay--
For I dread a creature coming
Whose involuntary humming
May assume the fatal form, "Ta-ra-ra-_boom_-de-ay!"

Oh, I fear that when the Summer roses _bloom_-de-ay,
You will read upon a well-appointed _tomb_-de ay:--
"Influenza never lick'd him,
But he fell an easy victim
To that universal scourge--'Ta-ra-ra-_boom_-de-ay!'"

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