To Roland Dille

Sweet Rollie the rollicking, Dille the delight,

Professor no fair mind forgets;

That you no longer teach modern lit at MS

Brings a squadron of deepest regrets.

What a joy it was back in the 60's to sit

In a class wherein you held the floor,

And grin, snort, and chuckle at your impish wit

As you'd some hapless writer explore.

Oh you got to the meat of him

No fear of that

Twas the garnish that we all adored

That impudent twinkle

That arch knowing nod

That innocent cock of the gourd.

You'd serve the chap up like a dish for the gods

All garnished with impudent puns

Then whip through your lecture, a verbal hotrod

While the note takers chewed on their tongues.

Suffice it to say that we all learned a lot

About Bloomsbury and its milieu

But we cared less what woe befell Virginia Woolf

Than the good fun befallen from you.

For you were the centerpiece of that great class,

Our soldier come home from the wars,

War hero enthralling each wonder- filled lass,

A David the whole class adored.

For you served up your lit with a relish and love

That addicted us all to your fun,

And let everyone see that a book was a trove

If Dille-lightedly served with a pun.

So thanks gentle Roland for lit served with mirth

May you last days be seasoned with glee,

May the love of the Word sweep the whole of the earth,

And may Heaven sweep up you and me.

 

Thanks!

G Pinkney-07/07/04

Copyright 2006  Gene Pinkney
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