WIth thirty three or thirty four
Our Ks will rise to Fifty Four
And all the Catter's, wild-eyed, say
"By God! They made another K!"
The children of the Mudcat tribe
Will snort and spiel and diatribe,
And rant and moan, and kvetch and roar
When Mother's K hits Fifty Four.
ANd thirty three or thorty four
Is really not that many more
To write and edit, polish, post
And twitterpate Joe Offer's ghost!
And Max, who lives out past the Sun
Will smile and what our lads of done!
So many post, writ one by one,
By Mother's daughters, Mother's sons.
But we--who understand it most
Will know it's just another post,
Another gybe, another rhyme
Writ just one letter at a time.

Winnifred Pettigrew De Longing
Hard Times in the Underwear Department and Other Poems
Snidely, Smirk, and Giggle, pubs.
Hijinks on Edge, 1918