(IN PARIS)  
 
 
Abou Ben Woodrow in bed watching angel reading from scroll
 
 
Abou Ben Woodrow (may his tribe increase!)
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
And saw, among the gifts piled on the floor
(Making the room look like a department store),
An Angel writing in a book of gold.
Now much applause had made Ben Woodrow bold
And to the Presence in the room said he,
"Qu'est-ce que c'est que ?a que tu ecris?"
Or, in plain English, "May I not inquire
What writest thou?" The Angel did not tire
But kept on scribing. Then it turned its head
(All Europe could not turn Ben Woodrow's head!)
And with a voice almost as sweet as Creel's
Answered: ............