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You'll recognize this party's central feature
As that delicious legendary creature

Who emerged all aglow
From Shreve, Crump & Low,

Who joined the Church of the Epiphany
Because it was next door to Tiffany,

Who started on an arty phase
With new décor from Cartier's,

Who lost all her marbles
At Van Cleef and Arples,

Who, surely as the tide does ebb,
Would end each day at David Webb.

I swear she even in the dark'll
Glitter, glisten, gleam and sparkle

On occasion of Margaret Warren Kimball's 75th birthday
R W Bean, 1972



When you are many miles at sea - so far we cannot hail yer,
And you discover rising bilge that's caused by pumping fail-yer.
Do not despair! For help's in sight! Its then we plan to mail yer
A three month trial subscription to - yes, yes! - the Practical Sailer!
And remember if after an issue - or two - the pump still fails and yer lost at sea
You've nothing at risk, send our invoice back - that's the Wiggly guarantee!

At a farewell party for WHB prior to setting sail for England
Timothy M. Warren



George Washington was great and strong.
He never did a thing thats roung.
He fought to severe our country fair
With sturdy face and dark brown hair.

P. A. Cross


H.B., W.C.

Happy birthday, Brother Red.
Hail to Sheilah, Pat, and Ted.
Let all be gay, let all make merry,
Mardie, Fordham, Bill, and Jerry.
To Joan and Jeff I send my greetings,
While I attend these bloody meetings.

It's not my fault.  I must explain:
There simply wasn't any plane.
Arrive I could; but I'd be lost in
Trying to return from Boston.
Not even the New Haven has a
Train in time from Copley Plaza.

For Warren, Gorham & Lamont
I'd gladly swim the Hellespont,
But oh, alack!, and woe is me,
I cannot leave the Treasury.
I'm sure you'll see the fix I'm in,
So drink a toast from absent kin.

January 1965



O! There once was a maid aged nineteen,
Who met up on a jaunt with a Bean.
He wooed her and won
And begat her a son,
And since then he hasn't been seen.

O! The son was a regular terror,
Who shrieked at his mother to scare her,
And it must be confessed
That she thought she'd been blessed
With, at times, not an heir, but an error.

This character's name was Bedlam Bill,
And he ruled the roost with an iron will.
He swung cats by ther tails,
And chewed on nails,
And hung by his heels with consummate skill.

O! He'd roar when he hadn't his way,
If the Rag* was too busy to play
So to harness his rage
They constructed a cage
And hoped that, once put, he would stay.

O! Now there'd be quiet for once.
But Willy was far from a dunce.
He discovered the ruse,
And Bedlam broke loose
With laughing and shouting and grunts.

Old Possum despaired of taming the brat,
So she called in the family, and they had a chat.
There was no getting rid
Of Billy the Kid.
Wherever you were, he knew where you were at.

O! Nothing would do any good
To make him behave as he should.
Her only escape
Was to don the white cape.
'Twixt Bedlam and bedpan she stood.

O! Great was Willy's dismay
When he asked, "Mummy going away?"
Said she, "You're darn tootin',"
And took off for Newton,
And stayed there the rest of the day.

Red Cross, Blue Cross, Peggy Cross Bean,
When you marry, your troubles begin,
But Bedlam is quiet
Compared with the riot
You'll have when your family's not one but fourteen.

*Raggedy Ann

Rupert Bean
London, 1945

WHB remembers the cage and would like to inform
the reader that he outlasted his jailors and the
cage was removed.