Small Poem

The Ballad of the Splendid chaps

Down south the meetings go on day long,

While in the north the beacons tell of war.

Up north they flee, and in the south they shout;

Cables, petitions from all quarters pour.

As everyone abuses all the others,

And each portrays himself as honey-sweet,

Civilians mock the generals' noble airs,

And scldiers think officials have cold feet.

Amid the sound of cursing land is lost,

amid the sound of cursing money's made.

But now the land is gone and cash raked in,

Shouting and swearing soon to silence fade.

Civil officials start to feel quite greedy,

While generals retire to their warm springs.

Let's all announce that no one was a traitor,

And write off all those past misunderstandings.

Now we agree what splendid chaps we are 

We gather round and smoke a fine cigar.

   

                                                                              Published in Dec. 1931