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- WHENAS galoshed my Julia goes,
- Unbuckled all from top to toes,
- How swift the poem becometh prose!
- And when I cast mine eyes and see
- Those arctics flopping each way free,
- Oh, how that flopping floppeth me!
- Bert Leston Taylor
- WHAN that Aprilly with hise shoures soote
- The droghte of March had perced to the roote,
- I druv a motor thro' Aprilly's bliz
- Somme forty mile, and dam neere lyke to friz.
- Bert Leston Taylor
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Julia's Arctics