When I consider how my night is spent
Pursuing dreams of cheese in dark halls wide,
Pursued in turn by cats, from whom I hide,
My coat all dusty and my whiskers bent,
To feed my family, and to them present
A decent living so they will not chide
Or chafe, "Will all petitions be denied?"
I fondly ask (of no one). To prevent
Much mournfulness, a lighter night I need:
In dark-dispelling joy the Club does best.
My weariness replaced by a new state
Of liveliness, the waiter's speed
Assures me. The music will be good. Rest
Precedes their starting. I can stand to wait.
© Kevin Berland, 1999
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