| A man sat on a rock and sought Refreshment from his thumb; A dinotherium wandered by And scared him some. His name was Smith. The kind of rock He sat upon was shale. One feature quite distinguished him— He had a tail. The danger past, he fell into A revery austere; While with his tail he whisked a fly From off his ear. "Mankind deteriorates," he said, "Grows weak and incomplete; And each new generation seems Yet more effete. "Nature abhors imperfect work, And on it lays her ban; And all creation must despise A tailless man. "But fashion's dictates rule supreme, Ignoring common sense; And fashion says, to dock your tail Is just immense. "And children now come in the world With half a tail or less; Too stumpy to convey a thought, And meaningless. "It kills expression. How can one Set forth, in words that drag, The best emotions of the soul, Without a wag?" Sadly he mused upon the world, Its follies and its woes; Then wiped the moisture from his eyes, And blew his nose. But clothed in earrings, Mrs. Smith Came wandering down the dale; And, smiling, Mr. Smith arose, And wagged his tail. David Law Proudfit. |
