I can’t hear this poem without thinking of my former father-in-law, a wonderful man named Ed Buhl. He recited it often. Reading up on it, I discovered that was a common thread: people remembered a grandfather saying it, or some other older figure. It’s important to keep that stuff alive.
The poem itself is sometimes wrongly attributed to e.e. cummings or Ogden Nash, but it was actually written by that Grand Old Master: Anonymous!
Apparently, Anonymous hailed from Brooklyn, NY.
Spring is sprung
Da grass is riz
I wonder where dem boidies iz
Da little boids is on da wing
Ain’t dat absoid
Da little wing is on da boid