Mouths Of Hippopotami And Some Recent Novels

(with apologies to Frederic Taber Cooper)     I well recall (and who does not)     The circus bill-board hippopotamus,     whose wide distended jaws     For fear and terror were good cause.     That month, that vasty carmine cave,     Could munch with ease a Nubian slave;     In fact, the bill-board hippopot-     amus could bolt a house and lot!     Wide opened, that tremendous mouth     Obscured three-quarters of the south     Side of Schmidts barn, and promised me     Thrills, shocks, delights and ecstasy.     And then, alas! what sad non plus     The living hippopotamus!     Twas but a stupid, sodden lump     As thrilling as an old elm stump.     Its mouth, unreasonably small,     The hippo opened not at all,     Or, if it did, it was about     As thrilling as a teapot spout.     *    *    *    *    *     The Crimson Junk, by Doris Watt,     Ive read it. Who, I pray, has not?     Bill Wastel, by C. Marrow. The     Plaid Cowslip. And The Hocking Lee.     The Fallow Field, by Sally Loo;     The Rose in Chains. Ive read that too;     Ive read them all for promised treat     Of thrills, emotions, tremblings sweet.     *    *    *    *    *     The bill-board hippopotamus     It was a wild, uprageous cuss,     The real one? Well, Can you recall     That it had any mouth at all?