Explore "Reginald" by Hector Hugh Munro on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The other day (confided Reginald), when I was killing time in the bathroom and making bad resolutions for the New Year, it occurred to me that I would like to be a poet. The chief qualification, I understand, is that you must be born. Well, I hunted up my birth certificate, and found that I was all right on that score, and then I got to work on a Hymn to the New Year, which struck me as having possibilities. It suggested extremely unusual things to absolutely unlikely people, which I believe is the art of first-class catering in any department. Quite the best verse in it went something like this --
"Have you heard the groan of a gravelled grouse, / Or the snarl of a snaffled snail / (Husband or mother, like me, or spouse), / Have you lain a-creep in the darkened house / Where the wounded wombats wail? "