March 27, 2017
Courtesy of Dick and Les Conklin
A poem and a laugh from long ago.
“There’s something about that maiden’s hair!?”
The shades of night were falling fast
When through an Alpine village passed
A youth who bore, mid snow and ice,
A banner with this strange device:
- – Excelsior!
He stopped offered hard-earn’d tin
For first-class lodgings at an inn,
They said he had a feather bed,
But he found it contained, instead,
- – Excelsior!
An age of substitution this,
An era of discounted bliss.
He asked for breakfast food next morn,
But they gave him, sure as your born,
- – Excelsior!
Before he flagged his trolley car
He bought a good ten-cent cigar.
They said it was Havana straight,
It’s filling was, we’re pained to state,
- – Excelsior!
He loved a maiden, passing fair,
He thought she had a wealth of hair,
But it turned out to be a myth;
He didn’t know ‘twas bolstered with
- – Excelsior!
Author Unknown
What is Excelsior?
Excelsior is a “fine curried wood shavings used especially for packing fragile items.”
Today we pack fragile items in plastic in various shapes and forms, but this poem is from 1929. My father saved it in his college scrapbook, preserving a laugh from long ago.
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