  He believes in drinking quantities of water, Undiluted by the essence of the grape; And he deprecates the universal slaughter Of dumb animals in any form or shape. So his breakfast-food (a patent, too, of course), is Made of oats which he monotonously chews, Mixed with chaff which any self-respecting horses Would refuse. He discovers fatal microbes that are hiding In the liquids that his fellow creatures drink; Fell bacilli that are stealthily residing In our carpets, in our kisses, in our ink! In his eagerness such parasites to smother, He will keep himself so sterilised and aired, That one fancies he would disinfect his mother, If he dared. In a vegetarian restaurant you'll find him, Where he feeds, like any other anthropoid, Upon dishes which must certainly remind him Of the cocoanuts his ancestors enjoyed. As he masticates his monkeyfood, you wonder If his humour is as meagre as his fare, And you look to see his tail depending under- -Neath his chair. To his friends he never wearies of explaining The exact amount of times they ought to chew, The advantages of "totally abstaining," And the joys of walking barefoot in the dew; How that slumber must be summoned circumspectly, In an attitude conducive to repose, And that breathing should be carried on correctly Through the nose. A pathetic little figure is my hero, With a sparse and wizened beard, and straggly hair, Upon which is perched a sort of a sombrero Such as operatic brigands love to wear. He may eat the nuts his prehistoric sires ate, He may flourish upon sawdust mixed with bran, But he looks more like a Nonconformist pirate Than a man! |
|
