PRIGGINS

Purse, purse, purse—
I’ll pick Picturing’s purse.
His purse I will go through;
When I’m done, he’ll be blue,
Because of what will soon ensue.

They’ll view the art, it they will love;
I’m talking of showing.
Quite soon my scheme will prove that I’ve
Brought them no jive showing.
I’ve taken this guttersnipe from darkness into light.
Praises they’ll sing, seeing this sight.
When they view his paintings, they will give a hearty clap,
Say, “He’s an artistic chap.”

My tutorship gave him the touch—
His talent’s much growing, growing!
I pulled him up out of the slime.
“Great!” they’ll avow.
Showing now!

He was so wrong, was only prime-
Colors-inclined.
Knowing that he would soon stumble and stall,
I made him tall.
Growing is his talent beyond what was an artistic scourge.
But his bad habits I have purged.

We have worked together as a quite unlikely team.
And now his work can be seen!

I was alarmed first by this swine
But now a fine showing, showing.
I’ll fill my till; the prize is mine;
The crowds will gawk and squawk, “Wow!”
Showing now!