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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=357866" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The End of Joi</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">They climbed the trees . . . As was told before,<br>The Glugs climbed trees in the days of yore,<br>When the oldes tree in the land to-day<br>Was a tender little seedling - Nay,<br>This climbing habit was old, so old<br>That even the cheeses could not have told<br>When the past Glug people first began<br>To give their lives to the climbing plan.<br>And the legend ran<br>That the art was old as the mind of man.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And even the mountains old and hoar,<br>And the billows that broke on Gosh's shore<br>Since the far-off neolithic night,<br>All knew the Glugs quite well by sight.<br>And they tell of a perfectly easy way:<br>For yesterday's Glug is the Glug of to-day.<br>And they climb the trees when the thunder rolls,<br>To solemnly salve their shop-worn souls.<br>For they fear the coals<br>That threaten to frizzle their shop-worn souls.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">They climbed the trees. 'Tis a bootless task<br>To say so over again, or ask<br>The cause of it all, or the reason why<br>They never felt happier up on high.<br>For Joi asked why; and Joi was a fool,<br>And never a Glug of the fine old school<br>With fixed opinions and Sunday clothes,<br>And the habit of looking beyond its nose,<br>And treating foes<br> With the calm contempt of the One Who Knows.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And every spider who heaves a line<br>And trusts to his luck when the day is fine,<br>Or reckless swings from an awful height,<br>He knows the Glugs quite well by sight.<br>'You can never mistake them,' he will say;<br>'For they always act in a Gluglike way.<br>And they climb the trees when the glass points fair,<br>With circumspection and proper care,<br>For they fear to tear<br>The very expensive clothes they wear.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But Joi was a Glug with a twisted mind<br>Of the nasty, meditative kind.<br>He'd meditate on the modes of Gosh,<br>And dared to muse on the acts of Splosh;<br>He dared to speak, and, worse than that,<br>He spoke out loud, and he said it flat.<br>'Why climb?' said he. 'When you reach the top<br>There's nowhere to go, and you have to stop,<br>Unless you drop.<br>And the higher you are the worse you flop.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And every cricket that chirps at eve,<br>And scoffs at the folly of fools who grieve,<br>And the furtive mice who revel at night,<br>All know the Glugs quite well by sight.<br>For, 'Why,' they say, ' in the land of Gosh<br>There is no one else who will bow to Splosh.<br> And they climb the trees when the rain pelts down<br> And feeds the gutters that thread the town;<br> For they fear to drown,<br>When floods are frothy and waters brown.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Said the Glug called Joi, 'This climbing trees<br>Is a foolish art, and things like these<br>Cause much distress in the land of Gosh.<br>Let's stay on the ground and kill King Splosh!'<br>But Splosh, the king, he smiled a smile,<br>And beckoned once to his hangman, Guile,<br>Who climbed a tree when the weather was calm;<br>And they hanged poor Joi on a Snufflebust Palm;<br>Then they sang a psalm,<br>Did those pious Glugs 'neath the Snufflebust Palm.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And every bee that kisses a flow'r,<br>And every blossom, born for an hour,<br>And every bird on its gladsome flight,<br>All know the Glugs quite well by sight.<br>For they say, ''Tis a simple test we've got:<br>If you know one Glug, why, you know the lot!'<br>So, they climbed a tree in the bourgeoning Spring,<br>And they hanged poor Joi with some second-hand string.<br>'Tis a horrible thing<br>To be hanged by Glugs with second-hand string.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then Splosh, the king, rose up and said,<br>'It's not polite; but he's safer dead.<br>And there's not much room in the land of Gosh<br>For a Glug named Joi and a king called Splosh!'<br>And every Glug flung high his hat,<br>And cried, 'We're Glugs! and you can't change that!'<br> So they climbed the trees, since the weather was cold,<br>While the brazen bell of the city tolled<br> And tolled, and told<br>The fate of a Glug who was over-bold.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And every cloud that sails the blue,<br>And every dancing sunbeam too,<br>And every sparkling dewdropp bright<br>All know the Glugs quite well by sight.<br>'We tell,' say they, 'by a simple test;<br>For any old Glug is like the rest.<br>And they climb the trees when there's weather about,<br>In a general way, as a cure for gout;<br>Tho' some folks doubt<br>If the climbing habit is good for gout.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So Joi was hanged, and his race was run,<br>And the Glugs were tickled with what they'd done.<br>And, after that, if a day should come<br>When a Glug felt extra specially glum,<br>He'd call his children around his knee,<br>And tell that tale with a chuckle of glee.<br>And should a little Glug girl or boy<br>See naught of a joke in the fate of Joi,<br>Then he'd employ<br>Stern measures with such little girl or boy.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But every dawn that paints the sky,<br>And every splendid noontide high,<br>All know the Glugs so well, so well.<br>'Tis an easy matter, and plain to tell.<br>For, lacking wit, with a candour smug,<br>A Glug will boast that he is a Glug.<br>And they climb the trees, if it shines or rains,<br>To settle the squirming in their brains,<br>And the darting pains<br>That are caused by rushing and catching trains</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Clarence+Michael+James+Stanislaus+Dennis">Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=357866" data-title="The End of Joi de Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis" data-description="They climbed the trees . . . As was told before,
The Glugs climbed trees in the days of yore,
When the oldes tree in the land to-day
Was a tender little seedling - Nay,
This climbing habit was old, so old
That even the cheeses could not have told
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