For Actonbell, a rededication.

The poets pen the names of God,

And journalists will tally fraud,

Maps gather information

From strange soils explorers trod.

But what becomes of humorists,

Sardonic ropes of hemp in twists?

What brings their syncopations

Back for indexing in lists?

Who hears where the laughter goes-

When chuckles fade and snorts echo?

Does the devil reap it for decoration

In Hell? Only Heaven knows.

For my part, I'm here, I'll do my best

To make Sharyl laugh, (and all the rest.)

If I'm facing deportation

From this blog, I here attest:

Though funny I may no more be

And rhyming gets the best of me,

By diligence and application

To blog may yet be here in me.

Yes, think of Koko, gorilla caged,

Lacking speech, but from young age

Through persistent education,

Learned ASL without turning a page.

And I have friends, some fruit and Blogspot

Plus free expression ('til I'm caught)

If all it takes is concentration

Then boil me some tea to cross, perhaps an aye to dot.

So I reintroduce now Doug Drones On,

Though sometimes here and sometimes gone

Until blogging or I one day depart the nation.

(Posting may by neglect grow short unlike my front lawn.)

For is Koko really not like me?

Or trekkers, scribes, riffraffery?

Great ape, now, my invocation-

I'll try to write a joke or three

If not daily, then monthly,

Help me write for friends to see

Be my primate inspiration,

And quit shaking the family tree!