Classic Poem

For a Mr. Lee Wilson Dodd and Any of His Friends Who Want It

Sing a song of critics
pockets full of lye
four and twenty critics
hope that you will die
hope that you will peter out
hope that you will fail
so they can be the first one
be the first to hail
any happy weakening or sign of quick decay.
(All very much alike, weariness too great,
sordid small catastrophes, stack the cards on fate,
very vulgar people, annals of the callous,
dope fiends, soldiers, prostitutes,
men without a gallus)
If you do not like them lads
One thing you can do
Stick them up your — — lads
My Valentine to you.