Some old rhymes of mine and a couple Of new ones

 War Cry

 I can't march well, but I can write--

I can't sing much, but my pen can bite--

I use age-old weapons in my eternal fight

To overcome wrong and lift up right

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Fio can't find her reading glasses

Are they near or are they far?

Or did she leave them in the car?   

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The wind is cold, the grass is straw

The daytime moon rides high

As Old Man Rowley rakes the leaves

And scowls at passers by,

Raising an angry fist to heaven

Against a tie-dyed sky

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