Winter comes; and our complaints
Grow apace as summer faints,
   Waning days grow dull and drear,
   Something tells, too well, I fear,
That I've found a germ or two;
Something seems -- ee! -- ah!  Tish-OO.

Subthig certigly does tell
That I'b very far frob weel.
   Ad I'b cadging cold, I fear
   As the wading days grow near,
Winter cubs; ad our complades
Grow apace as subber fades.

"Den"
Sun, 5 May 1927, p7