O Peary! With the scorchin’ summer here
And everybody payin’ double price
For little weeny, teeny bits of ice,
It dost no longer seem so very queer
That thou shouldst have the bravery to steer
Thy ship up North where it is cool and nice.
I'll bet you smile whilst thinkin’ thou hast twice
The fun we're havin’ at this time of year.
And, say! old boy, since thou dost understand
The pole is an imaginary spot,
Why not “imagine” thou hast found it and
Of time and trouble save an awful lot?
Couldst others track thee to that frozen land
And prove thou didst not find it? I guess not!