Absurd Ditties

Here is a collection that operates on a simple, delightful principle: what if everyday life were narrated by someone who found it all slightly bewildering? G. E. Farrow's verse from 1903 presents a cast of characters navigating existence with earnest befuddlement. Mr. Justice Dear, a judge who hasn't had a case in ages, gets robbed by polite burglars who apologize for the inconvenience. Mr. Brown grows wealthy and promptly dies in a stuck elevator, because of course he does. These are not anarchic or cynical jokes; they are gentile absurdities, delivered with perfect comic timing and a kind of Victorian/Edwardian wordplay that feels both quaint and startlingly modern. The poems skate between nonsense and social observation, never quite committing to either, which is precisely where their charm lives. Farrow wrote for children, but the best bits have the flavor of adults being silly at dinner parties. This is lightweight, affectionate foolishness, the literary equivalent of a nice cup of tea with a biscuit you shouldn't have taken.