Herb’s Blog, Herbdate 23055 – 1085
Here’s the haps:
Spring is sprung
The grass is riz
I wonder where them boidies is?
They claim, I hoid,
The Boid is on the wing
But that’s absoid
I know the wing is on the boid.
That poem was listed in several places as the Bronx anthem to Spring or the Bronx National Anthem. Another version I found goes:
Spring has sprung; The grass has ris. I wonder where The birdie is? There he is In the sky. He dropped some Whitewash in my eye! I am no sissy; I won't cry. I'm just glad The cows can't fly!
I didn’t research it too thoroughly, however. I was reminded that it’s Spring by friend-to-this-blog, A. J. McGregor, and wanted to wish everyone a pleasant season.
I also want to find something that The Google cannot seem to turn up. When I was in Tenth Grade English class we practiced a play on the real stage so we could understand how stage directions worked. It was about some hillbillies celebrating spring. I don’t remember the name of the play and of course I don’t have the mimeographed copy but I just wish I could find it or at least a little bit about it, anyway. I only know the first three lines, which were mine:
Spring am sprung
The time aire here
The skunks aire out…
To which the other characters exclaimed, “The skunks aire out?”
That’s all that I can remember is just that much but I think that’s what bothers me. Oh well. As I’ve taken to saying, “If that’s the biggest problem I have in life, or even the biggest problem I have today, I think I’m probably doing pretty good.”
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