The Bloated Biggaboon
The bloated Biggaboon
Was so haughty, he would not repose
In a house, or a hall, or ces choses,
But he slept his high sleep in his clothes—
’Neath the moon.
The bloated Biggaboon
Pour’d contempt upon waistcoat and skirt,
Holding swallow-tails even as dirt—
So he puff’d himself out in his shirt,
Like a b’loon.
H. Cholmondeley-Pennell.