I, Hemingway the great? I ain’t,
Hemingway the great, I ain’t, I ain’t.
I jot many very drivelish bores—
Sometimes scary, most engender snores.
Not any one is a Hemingway.
The images are silly that I paint. . .
Synesthetic taint, well, anyway,
Hemingway the great I ain’t.

Second verse ain’t like the first.

My hemming way is based on bastes,
Hemming way is based on bastes in haste.
I got married to a witch who excor-
iates should I mar my stitching chores—
The special one is the hemming way.
She says she will kill me if bastes I waste.
Baste-in-haste-but-show-taste hemming way.
“Hemming’s gay!” friends say. . .“pant’waist!”

H-E-M. . . ? No! Yea!
Hemingway, hemming way.
Hemingway the great I ain’t, I ain’t;
Hemming way is baste in haste.