From Georgie Starbuck Galbraith’s Have One on Me:

Modern Liberal

He is a hot-eyed fellow who
Takes a most illiberal view
Of anyone whose viewpoint is
Not so liberal as his.

Serpents’ Teeth

You’re dedicated to parenthood:
You rear your offspring the way you should.
You tend their needs with a saint’s endurance,
And take out a lot more life insurance.
You wipe their noses and bind up their bruises,
You nurse their mumps and provide ’em with shoeses
And dental braces that leave you pelfless.
You’re in there pitching, dead-beat and selfless
And asking for more. For nobody ever
Had kids so adorable, cute, and clever.

And that “Whoosh!” you hear is the passing years.
And meanwhile, what of those cherub dears
For whom your hopes are as high as a steeple?
The little ingrates grow into people!

The Happy Ape

The happy ape, he does not weep.
Content with food, a place to sleep,
A mate or two, his jungle heath,
The sky above, the earth beneath,
He does not buy, he does not sell.
He wots no sin, invents no hell,
Does homage to no suzerain,
And makes no war for god or gain.

Nor clock nor creed can call him slave.
He does not toil nor spin nor shave.
He has no pants to harbor ants
In re finances or romance,
And needs no cocktails to escape
From fear or boredom. Happy ape!
Let someone prove, if prove he can,
The ape did not descend from man.

From Bard to Verse

Bards of Passion and of Mirth,
Had ye lived today on earth;
Had ye, Homer, Ovid, Horace,
This year raised your lilting chorus;
Had ye, Chaucer, Donne, and Byron,
Shaped your lays of fire and i-ron
In the present century,
I’d have never heard of ye.

These are times, believe me, Bards,
When a publisher regards
Poets as a fiscal bane.
Cookbooks sell; so does Spillane;
Even tomes on building muscles.
But, like buggy whips and bustles,
Poetry’s outlived its day.
Rhyme, like reason, doesn’t pay.

Bards, ye’d now be to the Trade
As pariahs. Ye would fade,
With the golden wealth ye minted,
Broke, unhonored, and unprinted!

Seeing the Bright Side

Though clobbered by trouble, grief, and woe,
I cling to the philosophical theme:
Someday I’ll look back on this, I know,
And laugh till my straitjacket splits a seam!

Let Sleeping Statistics Lie

Statistics show that many more people die
In bed than elsewhere, establishing thereby
A fact statistic-lovers can have no doubt of:
Beds are places the prudent will stay out of.

Double-Edged Saw

The early bird will catch the worm,
Or so the proverb likes to state.
The moral: wise birds rise betimes,
But even wiser worms sleep late.

Fundamental Fallacy

Utopia still will be far to seek
As ever it’s been, so long
As men believe they can strengthen the weak
By weakening the strong.