Oh, how sick of Halley's comet!
Almost makes me want to vomit.
Can't pick up a magazine,
Halley's comet isn't seen.
When the weary day is done,
Still no peace unless you shun
Every living soul you meet
Talking comet on the street.
Should you occupy the pews,
See the Hipp or read the news,
Fall asleep and chance to dream,
Halley's comet still the theme.
Dust to-day got in my eye,—
Halley's comet passing by.
Both the sense of sound and sight,
Suffering from this comet's blight.
When the days were hot and dry,
Halley's comet in the sky.
All through April frost and rain,
Halley's comet raising Cain.
Whoso seeks for faith or knowledge
Goes to church or enters college,
Hears naught else but this discussed.—
Shooting stars and comet dust.
Taft and Teddy's well be dead,
Like Old England's monarch Ed,—
Just as well as be forgot
Midst this meteoric rot.
Automobile passes by,
Like a comet in the sky.
Leaving in its awful trail,
Wreaths of smoke just like a tail;
See a fellow sniff the air,
Stop, turn pale, and trembling, swear:
"Wonder now has science lied?
That gas smells like cyanide."
Learned, ign'rant, rich and poor,
All are full of comet lore.
Life had charms that once were sweet;
Earth, hast now no safe retreat?
If this talk will not abate,
Lord, I pray this be our fate;
May this globe dissolve or fail,
Passing through the comet's tail!