That may not be the proper way
To spell their name; I cannot say.
I've never seen 'em written out:
I've only heard 'em talked about.
They're coming here tonight to dine,
So says that little son of mine.
But all last week, 'twas just the same;
They were to come, and never came.
And I'm just skeptical enough
To think they're all a myth, a bluff;
Mere creatures of my youngster's brain,
Whose coming he'll await in vain.
And yet to him they're very real.
They own a big black auto'bile.
They work downtown, and they'll arrive
Out here at one-two-three-four-five.
The Heckuses are four all told.
There's Mrs. H. who's very old,
And Baby Heckus, and a lad
Named Tom, and Bill, the Heckus dad.
Beyond this point I can't describe
The fascinating Heckus tribe.
I can but wonder how he came
To think of such a lovely name.
The Heckuses
Ringgold Wilmer Lardner
(1)
Poem topics: baby, son, work, real, brain, black, point, never, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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The Heckuses is a poem by Ringgold Wilmer Lardner. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.
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