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I am fond of rhymes and fonder still, sometimes, of near rhymes. Though I’m unabashedly a fan of Ogden Nashedly, if you were to ask which near rhyme I’d most like to imitate, I would not have to hesitate. I most admire Roger Miller’s she carried, which he paired with ev’rywhere, it in a sweet, sad song. When that single was released I happened to reside in Baltimore; in consequence, I liked the record all the more.
...Old brown suitcase that she carried,
I’ve looked for it ev’rywhere, it
Just ain’t here among the rest, and
I’m a little upset, yes....
Now I will mention another near rhyme, this one a near-favorite of mine, each word having three syllables, accent on the first: quietly
and seventy in a song of rich brevity by Paul Simon.
...Can you imagine us years from today,
Sharing a park bench quietly?
How terribly strange to be seventy....
For five decades I have admired that album, that song, and, particularly, those subtly sublime few lines. But I have come to soften the near-favorite near rhyme. I imagine S&G would now agree, How pleasantly strange to be seventy.
♦
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