Genevieve; Spring Rushes Forth by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
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Chapter 20
Carnival food stand; property of the author.
Not only did they sell corn dogs, pizza, French fries, funnel cakes, peanuts, popcorn, and pretzels, but the stand also had strange paperbacks, periodicals books, magazines, and comic books available for paw perusal.
Since the little ones did not find any of the cuisine items suitable for breakfast, distracted, they looked at the books.
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Hominid pulp fiction; property of the author.
Comics; public domain.
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Comics; public domain.
Comics; public domain.
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Comic; public domain.
Comic; public domain.
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Comic; public domain.
Maybe because he couldn’t read, Henry from Fluky Road got so excited that he climbed to the top of a tree stump and possibly made a leap of faith. Only he knows for sure, but the crowd gave him the benefit of the doubt.
Henry’s leap of faith; property of the author.
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”Uh oh,” said Momma cat Sheba, as one of the kittens got behind her for “protection” from what this nutty dog might accidentally accomplish.
”It is simply not possible for anything to be this tiny”; property of the author.
Instead, Henry’s successful and harmless landing encouraged imitators. Grim Gus from an un-named dirt road in the proximity of Judicious Street said; “I’m sitting right here for now. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get this high?”
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Grim Gus; property of the author.
Those sufficiently nearby to hear Grim Gus’ words of wisdom may have unfortunately also have lost his gist when they heard another carousel. This one was older, but it also played music as it turned. “The Rose of Tralee” was recognized by more than those who might have said so without having again heard the nineteenth century tune. A long carousel ride was suggestively intimated.
“The Rose of Tralee”
“The pale moon was rising above the green mountain.
The sun was declining beneath the blue sea when I strayed with my love to the pure crystal fountain, that stands in the beautiful Vale of Tralee.
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She was lovely and fair as the rose of the summer, Yet 'twas not her beauty alone that won me.
Oh no; 'twas the truth in her eyes ever dawning, that made me love Mary, the Rose of Tralee.
The cool shades of evening their mantle were spreading.
And Mary all smiling was listening to me.
The moon through the valley her pale rays was shedding, when I won the heart of the Rose of Tralee.
Though lovely and fair as the rose of the summer, yet 'twas not her beauty alone that won me.
Oh no, 'twas the truth in her eyes ever dawning, that made me love Mary the rose of Tralee.
In the far fields of India, 'mid war's dreadful thunders, her voice was a solace and comfort to me.
But the chill hand of death has now rent us asunder.
I'm lonely tonight for the rose of Tralee.
She was lovely and fair as the rose of the summer.
Yet 'twas not her beauty alone that won me.
Oh no, 'twas the truth in her eyes ever dawning that made me love Mary, the rose of Tralee.”
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Older carousel; property of the author.
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