_My dreary friend MICHEL KUKULEVICH, many a condolences

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HE REALLY LINGERED THERE

The foes have ruined an old hogan...
Have wrecked his family to bits!
Where will the soldier now be roving,
Whereto endeavoring his wits?

Troped menacing and cursing idol
Of hell-begettings to a kill!
And found there soldier in a wild-field
A grassy knob... a tubercle...

And he broke... as though lumps of novel
Beset his throat as to arouse --
And he delected "greet my hovel
Old governess your hero spouse"...

Get ready some zuccini mashing...
Upscale the fresh unclinging dew:
I'll grow berserk from the rehashing
Of sweet... not idle residue!

None drew the soldier... Or molested
His veer-gone spine beside a rave --
And but a snippet of dense tempest
Rocked an incidiary grave!

The duped straight mercenary glovered,
Untied the bagbelt not his own --
To set his bitter-glassy bottle
Upon the gray sepulchre stone...

Don't svelte me dearly, eggplant-weigher...
I could have come more chaperone...
But on my way I met a slayer --
And must de-barricade the throne!

"Retort your dreary hasienda...
Re-store the order of my friends;"
He drank and lay at a lime-ender
The blend of wine and old portends!

He went and puckered his dense fore-head,
Paused at the door to drink and tell
How Armageddons he held mordant...
Two strongholds lingered to compel!

Bent-over, croaked, merc drank downsliding;
A tear leaked like the highest crest...
And on his telegm chest was biding
The order seizing Budapest.

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