A Song of Self-Esteem

The Simple Social Lifer is a harmless sort of elf,
He feeds a dog on mutton that he mustn't eat himself.
I tolerate his sandals and his tresses long and lank,
I reverence his madness but I deprecate his Swank.

O the Swank of the Crank in the future's foremost rank,
And the child of all the ages there was nobody to spank.
He has told us all he means by his water and his beans
In a style that might be pardoned on the theory that he drank.

The Banker is an expert on economy and strikes,
He uses all your money to do anything he likes;
And the usurer who uses it you're called upon to thank.
I do not mind the swindle but I do not like the swank.

O the Swank of the Bank and the cheque you give it
For the cryptic explanations when the rate of wages sank.
But I hope to see the fun when a Frenchman with a gun
Shall ask him what the devil he is doing with the Franc.

The Yankee is a dab at electricity and crime,
He tells you how he hustles and it takes him quite a time,
I like his hospitality that's cordial and frank,
I do not mind his money but I do not like his swank.

O the Swank of the Yank on the Prohibition Plank,
O take the water-waggoner and drown him in the tank.
Since the Faith of Tennessee has wafted o'er the sea,
The odour of its sanctity—and Golly how it stank!
Rate this poem: 


No reviews yet.