[_Dreamed after reading in a daily paper that "any style of dress that
lessens one's self-confidence should be tabooed" (sic)._]
I travelled from the Sussex hills
With confidence divine,
Full of the conscious power that thrills
My heart when life is mine,
And strode to Lady Fancy Frills
With whom I was to dine.
Her guests had come from Clubs and Courts
And Halls of wealthy Jews;
As they surveyed my running shorts
I felt my courage ooze,
While conscious power, grown out of sorts,
Leaked through my canvas shoes.
* * * * *
Then I re-travelled South by West
Inflated with a joy
Which in the suit I called my best
No buffet could destroy;
I may remark I'd come full-dressed
From lunch at the Savoy.
But when the hills began to shout
I coloured to the roots,
And when the valleys cried, "Get out!"
To the last word in suits,
My joy, displaced by sudden doubt,
Leaked through my spatted boots.
* * * * *